The Master's Beloved Pawn
by xXCourageousXx
Summary: In the Game of Thrones, there is a winner and a loser. To have a chance at surviving the Game, one has to be skilled at discerning how the rules shift and playing it to their advantage. But when a particular Mockingbird becomes distracted by a Pawn he finds the Game changing and the endgame turning towards something he could never have planned for. Story notifications in profile
1. The Bargain

XxX

The dark, stone room filled with long shadows as the evening set in around the castle, casting an ominous spell upon King's Landing. The only source of light, apart from the sliver of moon painted over the glassy sea, was the roaring fire in the far end of the room, which was still cool despite the immense effort of the grand flames.

A pair sat next to each other at the table in one of the rooms deep in the castle, away from the beauty of the night, their heads almost touching as they placed the final touches on their next plot.

Softly, a knock echoed throughout the room, hushing their whispers.

Lifting her head, which caught the fire and crowned her with a sinister halo, Cersei beckoned, "Enter."

"You desired to see me, my lord and lady?" Came the formal reply from Petyr Baelish as he was escorted into the room. Guards lingered on either side of the Player of Thrones, forcing another layer to build upon his thick mask so as to conceal his unnerve. He stopped at the far end of the table, fixing his sleeve as he always did, a nasty habit he had taken up in his youth, and tried to look unperturbed.

"Yes, won't you join us Lord Baelish?" Cersei inquired, her voice that of a cat who knew it was about to win.

His grey eyes, dusted with green, wandered to the empty chair beside the Hand of the King before chancing one last look up at the pair and moving towards them to take up his assigned seat. Cersei had yet to take her eyes from the Lord, her face remaining unreadable, her plans not yet ready to be unveiled.

Perching on the chair's edge like a mockingbird preparing to take flight at a moment's notice, Petyr rested his hand on the table and looked between the two, "You desired to see me?" He repeated informally, keeping his tone easy and light.

Tywin Lannister decided to prolong the silence by pouring them each a glass of wine, handing them out and taking a deep drink of his own goblet before he replied, "Indeed, we were just discussing your…proposal during our last talk. The one that involves the young Stark girl and her future."

Petyr's heart beat faster than any small bird's wings, nervous his plan to sneak the young girl out of the city to Eyrie had been uncovered. The green marbled with the grey, hardening as he dared a look at the doors, which were clearly barred and guarded, and he instantly started preparing his speech for why the rumor was untrue.

"Specifically, your idea on how to keep her as a part of our Game's court and, eventually, give her a reason to play." Tywin explained, easing the Lord's pulse.

Petyr turned to the older adviser, the sincere surprise in his eyes fitting the moment, "Oh?" He managed, his thoughts turning to recall which meeting Tywin was referring to. There had been so many ideas cast about the last few weeks concerning the girl as each House sought to snatch the Northern heir that he couldn't place which plan the Lannister wanted to revisit.

"Yes, I believe we were too hard on your status, saying that you were too lowly of birth was short sighted of us." Tywin swirled his goblet, gazing into its depths as if it held the answer to all questions, "Truly, if a man can make it to where you are without any blood or money to his name then he is a man to be respected and regarded as a key player in the Game. He is not a man we want against us at any point." He looked up, his weathered eyes pale but ruthless as he smirked. The true meaning behind the words shone through in that look.

And, with the extra pieces, Petyr put it all together and instantly knew what plan they were discussing. His back leaned lightly against the uncomfortable wood of the delicately carved chair as his wit worked, knowing that the Lannisters always required more than they gave.

"We brought you here, at this late hour, to inquire if your offer to secure the girl for us was still good?" Tywin asked, his tone one of courtesy instead of true inquiry. Of course the offer was good, no one dared to even think of going back on their word to the Hand of the King, especially when the King was a sadistic boy with countless ways of tormenting others.

Cersei's eyes narrowed as she let a dark grin paint her red lips. Petyr took note; knowing more than one Game was being played and that he had to uncover what she wanted sooner rather than later. As for now, though, he would have to let the matter rest as he finished the one with Tywin.

Slowly, in a pretense of consideration, Petyr nodded and dropped his head so they couldn't see his face, even though he let no expression trickle across it as he calculated his next move, "Indeed, my lord. I am at your service for whatever you need and see fit to do." Came the seasoned response, the exact one the Lannister pair had counted on.

If Petyr wasn't a seasoned player of the Game he would have let his pleasure at their change of heart, if it could be called that, drip into his eyes and allow his thrill of succeeding distract him from the Game afoot. But, Petyr was well seasoned and he knew better than to play to their advantage at this time. He had already risked much when he had first offered to wed the girl – it had been an impulse and an un-thought out move at the time, one which had only been said in response when they had first suggested that the young Stark marry to the youngest Lannister, the Imp.

Petyr would learn from his mistake this time and keep to the safer, higher ground. Thus, he remained quiet and waited for them to break the silence.

"Good, that is very good to hear, Lord Baelish." Tywin replied after finishing his drink, "With Joffrey's wedding coming up we will not have sufficient funds to pay for an additional one for an orphaned girl, of course. As such, coupled with your status and earned title, we see it fit to push for a short engagement concluding with an elopement before the Godswoods within a fortnight so that it will not interfere with…other plans."

Petyr wanted to inquire after the girl as to whether she still needed more time to mourn the loss of her brother and mother before being arranged in a marriage with him, someone he knew she would not be happy to be paired off with, especially considering she had her heart set on Sir Loras. But he knew better than to expect or even to ask for any compassion from those before him when the topic concerned the deaths of traitors to their House.

"She is quite a religious little dove; it will mean so much to her Lord Baelish to be married before the Heart Tree." Cersei explained, her eyes teasing, "And she would greatly appreciate the hush of the arrangement. Sansa has always prefer not to be fussed over anyway and, considering she will be marrying quite lower than she had ever thought she would as a Stark, I think it will be best not to heap more embarrassment on the poor girl. No, that would be cruel. It is best to give her a quick, discrete engagement and a quiet ceremony before the trees."

The venomous words met their intended mark, reminding Petyr that he was still, and would always be, lowlier than them, but they didn't remain in his guarded heart or linger in his turning thoughts. His focus was solely on the young girl who had just found out within the week that she was well on her way to being the last of her line and coming up with a way to buy her more time to mourn. As such, Petyr would also be grated time to woo her properly, and permanently, to his side and possibly help her warm to the idea of being his lady wife instead of forcing a rushed marriage upon her. But that was just an afterthought; at least, that is what the Lord told himself.

Petyr was definitely a Master of the Game, but to say he was completely heartless when it came to the women of House Stark was a grievous mistake. Of course that was a trait he kept strictly to himself.

A new plan revealed itself to the Lord, one which might give Sansa the time she needed, "Has she flowered? There is no use in taking a young wife if she is not yet able to carry a child." He inquired, fixing his cuff and trying to appear unmoved by the topic.

Cersei saw through him like glass, knowing how much he desired the girl, "She flowered a few months ago. Her Septa, who has assured me that her maiden's gift is still intact, agrees that it is time for her to be brought under the protection of a husband before she becomes too tempting to those in the castle. Sansa is entering the peak of her womanhood and the pinnacle of her beauty, surly you have noticed? Everyone else has." She asked, her head rolling slightly to study him, "Sansa should be able to carry strong sons quite well. Women of the North are known for their durability. So…there is no problem with her to be found, my lord. But, that's not what you are worried about, is it?" She toyed before him, trying to bait him, "You shouldn't have any problem placing a child within her belly, should you Littlefinger?"

Petyr refused the lure and, finishing the last pull of his cuff, looked up to meet her straight on, "The House of Baelish has never had a problem securing their place in this world." He replied, folding his hands together gracefully on the table in a silent defeat, knowing that was the last card he had to play and that he couldn't buy Sansa any time like he had wanted to.

"Indeed, it hasn't." Cersei replied, looking down her long nose at him and choosing to wait for another day to continue their Game.

Tywin, who had been sitting back watching their banter with amusement, circled the lip of his goblet with a finger, "Now, of course, we will require a…favor of sorts, in exchange for our generous gift to you, Lord Baelish."

The pale lips of the Lord turned up into a grin, having wondered when what they wanted would be addressed, "I am truly your humble servant, my lord, and will do whatever I can to help advance your desires for the flourishing Kingdom. It is not a favor, but an honor to—"

"No need for laud and fawning, Lord Baelish. This is business, nothing more." Tywin waved away Petyr's words, "You will need to save your charm for when you go to bed the Stark girl. Not all of them fall so easily into your sheets, if you remember correctly, and it might take a bit to win her loyalty, especially considering the treatment you showed her father."

Petyr leaned back in the chair, seeking to size up the elder Lannister and figure out his hand. Thought Petyr had always held to the code of confusing ones enemies, he could usually see through their smoke and mirrors with ease and deduce their game. Tonight however, as he received what he had wanted for a long while, he found his discernment slightly off point.

"You need to secure the support of the Eyrie for us." Tywin finally stated, his eyes narrowed and serious.

"How do you propose I go about that, my lord?" Petyr asked, the hairs on his neck raising as he thought through the different options.

The only sure way he could think of to secure the title of Lord of the Vale was by marrying into the line and there was only one female, the regent as it were, in the line: Lysa Arryn. But that went against everything they had previously discussed, unless they meant for Sansa to be a kept woman instead of his wife – but that too was problematic because they had mentioned a Heart Tree, where only vows of marriage were spoken.

Raising a brow, Petyr looked back to the Lannister. _How do you plan for me to marry the Stark girl within a fortnight and yet have me secure the Eyrie when the only option for that would be marriage? There must be a great plot in the making_ , Petyr thought to himself, his eyes wandering to the fire as he mulled over different ideas.

Tywin smirked darkly, the plan already written out in his thoughts, and cleared his throat to bid the Lord's attention to him, "Oh, do not worry yourself. You will have the Stark girl in your bed within the month. Besides, I would never ask you to stoop so low as to marry the basket case that is Lady Arryn. Not even someone of your rank should be forced to endure such a punishment." He reached for the pitcher and poured another glass of wine, "But, once you are wedded and bedded, I would like you to travel to the Eyrie to ensure their alliance by using that striking charm of yours to convince the protective mother, who was quite fond of you in her youth and, rumors has, still is, that her dear little boy would flourish as the Lord of the Vale under a man's watchful eye. I want you to convince her to sign over wardship of young Robin to me and then do as you see fit with the loose ends."

Petyr opened his mouth to inquire after Sansa, but the Queen Regent was a step ahead of him.

"Do not worry about your young, little bride, my lord; I will keep the little dove under my watchful eye. No harm will come to her." Her eyes grew sinister, casting a negative and distrusting feel upon her promise.

Petyr shifted his foot under the table, uneasy with the proposition, and pretended to consider it.

He, along with everyone else, had seen the way Joffrey gazed at Sansa Stark, it had been the driving force behind the question he was about to ask. The lust in the malicious King's face was written clearly, almost uncomfortably, on ever part of his face, something Joffrey never even attempted to conceal. And, especially after what had happened to Ros, Petyr swore he would never leave Sansa's side while that monster still lived, he wasn't about to take back his self-imposed oath. Not now, not ever.

In addition to his concern towards the Boy-King, as Cersei had said, the young Stark had truly come into her body and was glowing in her youthful beauty which set up a steep temptation that even the most skilled of players could fall into. It was a spell that Petyr had found himself under, an enchantment only certain ones with Tully blood knew.

Coupled with the temptation of lust, the Lord also found himself slowly being taken over by an odd sense of jealousy at the attention little Sansa was receiving in court. It wasn't just about envious possession as it had been about with Cat, but something else. Something Petyr was not willing to admit for fear of the weakness it brought with it.

All in all, married or not, he could not truly protect Sansa from the advances of others if he was not present. Ultimately, a ring and their spoken vows before the old gods wouldn't be enough to shield the young bride if one stumbled upon her, alone, in the gardens and the temptation grew too great.

Money could only garner a certain amount of protection and even then there wasn't anyone he trusted to watch out for her in his absence, just as there wasn't anyone now who he could count upon, which is what kept him tied to King's Landing and continually pushing off business elsewhere.

"You will need to use whatever means necessary to get Lysa to agree to the arrangement." Tywin continued, trying to sway Petyr to his side, "That is no place for a young bride, especially one who isn't a player in the Games nor knows how to conduct herself in such plots. She is too innocent still to understand the Games of Men. Her father passed on his too honorable heart to her, I doubt she will ever be able to lie properly. You would do better to lock her in your chambers while you go about your exploits."

"You underestimate my teaching skills, my lord. I am sure that I can play her well enough to keep her in line and sticking to her part." Petyr chanced, finding his confidence and trying an alternative route, "Also, as her husband, I have a right to decide where she comes and goes, as well as where she stays. The law says as much."

"Careful, Lord Baelish, she is not yours _yet_." Tywin warned.

Petyr inclined his head, pulling back his advances, "Indeed, my lord. Excuse my insolence, it was not intended."

"Sansa will not be able to play a part. Obedient she may be, but she has no skills apart from domestic." Cersei countered, annoyed by his objection, "She can't lie for anything, you yourself have said as much, and will give you away the instant you step foot in the Eyrie."

"My opinion respectfully differs from yours, my lady." Petyr replied, reluctantly turning to the Queen Mother, "I think you underestimate her Stark blood and how much of a player she can be when given the chance." He turned back to Tywin, the most powerful of all the Lannisters, to gain ground, "We have to attract her to our side of the cause and, to do that successfully, we need to give a little and show her how much power she wields, but only within the boundaries we have establish for her. We have to have her rely solely on us. To accomplish this, we must give her something to gain her trust, something that can be taken away at a moment's notice if we are not in the picture, so that she is easier to control later. The direwolf won't bite the hand that tends to it if it is trained well from a pup."

"How will you be able to seduce Lady Arryn when accompanied by your little wife? Surly Sansa will be a distraction not just to you but her Aunt as well, stirring up deep loyalties she holds for her dead sister." Cersei continued, "Not to mention that wife of yours could potentially undermine any of your attempts to bed another. Sansa will not be happy with your match, I assure you, but she will be even more upset by the fact that her lord husband is not keeping the vows he stated before her gods to be loyal to her alone. She could ruin all of our plans if she accompanies you to the Eyrie." Cersei countered, the desperation cracking her voice as she saw herself losing control of the red-headed Stark.

"There are ways to win a woman's favor without the need of sheets, my lady. Lady Arryn is an old friend of mine and you can rest assured that she supports our cause. And, besides, Lady Arryn has not seen Sansa since she was a child—"

Cersei leaned back in her chair with crossed arms, mumbling, "Was and is…"

"—and if you are worried about her being swayed by the visit of a Stark, Sansa can dye her hair and go as my niece, a ward of mine and nothing more. I know Lysa to be a very jealous woman, she has been ever since we were children, as such I have already decided that it would be safest for Sansa if she appears as a charge instead of my wife for the duration of our stay." Petyr held out his hands, daring her to ask another question and test his resolve. They might have won on the requirement for a short engagement but they would not be winning on this.

"A trip outside of these walls will offer her a taste of freedom, a reason to trust me and sway her to our plans eventually." Petyr pressed, "It will be a gift, if you will, for how obedient she has been and will show her what is to come if she keeps behaving herself. Besides, it will be quite easy to sway the girl to change her appearance to accompany me, more than anything she desires to be away from King's Landing anyway, and it will be even easier to convince her that she needs to keep up a front so as not to be sent back."

Cersei's eyes slit, knowing she had met her match this day.

Tywin leaned back, studying the Lord, tapping his finger against his thin lips. Petyr held his head high, letting his eyes return boldly to meet Tywin's and daring him to find fault with what he said.

"You believe you can train the pawn to be of controllable use later on?" Tywin mulled aloud, his eyes narrowing in study.

"I do." Petyr smiled like Cheshire cat. By the sour etched in Cersei's face, he knew he was gaining ground, "The girl has taken enough hits for our cause, if we want to use her to our advantage later we must start giving her sometime in return for her suffering. Showing her we trust her with this assignment and loosening the reigns enough to give her a controlled sense of freedom might help our cause. Who better to sway the North back to us than their sole heir?" Petyr finished with a charmed smile.

"Father, you can't seriously be considering—"

With a sharply raised hand Tywin instantly silenced his daughter, reminding her of her place.

"Very well, Lord Baelish." Each word was said with a growing weight, as if the following should be taken with great heed, "If you believe that you can control the direwolf pup, than she is yours to do with as you see fit. But if she fails, she will not be the only one. Am I understood?"

Petyr gave a solid nod, his face stoic, "I understand, my lord."

"Good, very good. We will announce the engagement tomorrow, Cersei will talk with the Stark girl privately, of course, before it is announced." Tywin looked to his daughter, continuing only when she confirmed what he said with a nod, "Congratulations on your engagement, may you have many healthy sons to carry your name on."

Petyr inclined his head in thanks of the blessing.

"With this issued settled, you may leave us until tomorrow. At first light I will expect you at court to solidify a few large expenses coming up and then, of course, for the announcement later that morning." Tywin nodded to the door and began to rummage through the papers scattered before him on the table.

Petyr stood and gave a slight bow of respect as the traditional formalities were exchanged before taking his leave. He began to fix his cuff once he was out in the hall, making sure the white of his tunic sleeve could be seen against the dark, rich green of his outer coat.

His thoughts turned as he walked back to his quarters, finally able to contemplate the large gift the Lannisters had bestowed upon him.

Strings or not, Sansa Stark would now be his. His lady wife and his bed mate till the end of days. Within a fortnight her body would be his completely and fully, and he could start on the long journey of winning her heart and soul. His desire overcame his lust for ambition in that moment as he snuck into his room, pretending as if he had never left in the first place.

As he ready for bed, he considered the lies he had told to keep the girl with him when he went to Eyrie.

Of course Petyr did not think the girl was gifted with the strength of her father, all of that had gone to the small Ayra, but he knew that if he sought to protect her from the Game that he would have to put her out, just as one would with their first pawn in a game, and do everything within his power to keep her safe after that move.

And, maybe, under his watchful eye and guiding hand she could become a piece to be reckoned with on her own. After all, once the small pawn had gone to the ends of the board it became a queen in its own right.

Petyr moved to the window and opened the wooden panel, letting the salty sea breeze fill the air around him. Closing his eyes, he pushed his face into it as his hands rested upon the cool, stone sill, "I will keep you safe, Little Pawn," He whispered to the night, "I swear by the gods and anything else there might be. I will keep you safe if nothing else."

XxX


	2. The Announcement

XxX

A knock sounded on the large oak doors, requesting entrance, as the morning sun shone through the delicate glass window.

Sansa startled at the noise and hurried to tie her outer coat modestly around her. With a quick glance in the mirror to make sure her hair was acceptable, she bid, "Please, come in."

She stood when she saw the Queen Mother enter, adorned in her finest red dress and golden tresses, "Good morning, my lady." She hurried to bow her head in respect.

Cersei pursed her lips into a smile and gestured to the small drawing table, "To you as well. Please, sit and enjoy your morning, Sansa. There is no need for formality between such good friends." She moved to take a spare chair and Sansa followed her lead, keeping to her manners.

"Would you care for some tea, my lady?" Sansa offered, placing two cup before them and reaching for the teapot.

"Yes, I would love some." Cersei replied, watching as the girl moved with grace to set up the table before her. Catelyn Stark had taught her daughter well in the arts of the home; Sansa was the exemplar of a true hostess. In addition to these skills, her mother had also given her the best of her looks and elegance. The Stark girl was truly a beauty to behold. The Lannister Lioness could tell with ease why the Mockingbird was so taken with such a pup as her.

"What do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning, my lady?" Sansa asked once she had poured the tea and taken her seat.

"I have some news I wish to share with you before it is announced in court today." Cersei opened, taking a careful sip of her tea and studying the girl closely for any sign of weakness. She wasn't disappointed.

Sansa's heart sped up, the fear coloring her previously soft features and cracking her innocence further.

Cersei waited another second before adding, "Good news, I assure you. There is no need to fret."

The girl visibly relaxed, her shoulders lowering as she accepted the false calm Cersei had offered her. Sansa sipped at her warm tea, waiting for her to continue.

"A…decision has been made for you by the Small Council. A match, as it were." Cersei continued, keeping her words light, "Quite a good one, actually, and they will announce it this morning before the typical business of the day is seen too."

Sansa looked up, her brow knitted as her thoughts turned, "A match for what?" Her small voice asked, trying to make sense of the vague words.

Cersei nodded slowly, dabbing at the corner of her red-lips and allowing the girl to stew in her uncertainty.

After a while, Cersei leaned forward and folded her hands atop the table, "The Council has decided that it is time for you to wed, my little dove."

As expected Sansa's eyes lit up at the suggestion, thinking Margaery had put her plan into action and she would finally marry Sir Loras, a very respectable and handsome knight.

"It might seem scary, but it is for the best." Cersei reassured, "The Council has the best of intentions for you at heart, of course." She continued to toy, enjoying what little time she had left to torment the red-headed Stark. The girl's eyes just brightened as she nodded like a dumb sheep, completely unaware of the slaughter that was to come, "A marriage will offer you a cloak of protection from those in court who might be tempted by your beauty. You have truly come into your woman's body and it is time that you take on the responsibilities of tending to your own home and securing your line, and your husband-to-be's, with heirs."

"Oh, I couldn't agree more, my lady!" Sansa cooed lightly, her thoughts reminiscing on the stories of her youth about knights and their beloveds before turning to thoughts on how pretty her babies would be.

"Yes, quite. Though I bid you to remember what we talked about the day of your flowering." Cersei continued, looking down to her drink and slowly circling her finger on the cup as Sansa nodded in reply, "Though, I am sure you will find an adequate companion in Lord Baelish." Her eyes fluttered up to the girl, who was still gazing out the window, lost in a daydream, "He is well off and can provide a stable life for you. You will be quite comfortable. He might be a bit older than you, but I am sure you can have a couple acceptable years before—"

"E-excuse me, my lady, did…did you say Lord B-Baelish?" Sansa stuttered, her eyes growing wide. Her chest constricted as the panic set in, adding more flame to the fire Cersei was trying to stir up. Sansa dropped her head and her eyes nervously began searching the table, hoping beyond hope that she had heard wrong.

"Yes, child, I did." Cersei reached out and tilted her chin up with two fingers, "Oh, I know it must be different from what you ever expected in a match, it might even disappointed you, but the Council has decided that this would be the best course of action. You will be part of a grand House that has made its own name instead of having it handed to them. That is an honorable accomplishment and you shouldn't be so downcast about it." Cersei pulled back, concealing her enjoyment at the torment with ease, "Besides, it is already finalized and will be announced later this morning. It does you no good to pout and ruin your pretty face."

Sansa's sea blue eyes were filling with waves of tears, though she was doing quite well at keeping them from falling.

"Oh, my dear little dove…." Cersei tsked, reaching up to wipe her eyes with one of the napkins, "I do apologize for having upset you. I just wanted to tell you so that you wouldn't be caught off guard later by the announcement." She took up the girl's hands into her own, cool ones, "I care for you, Sansa, just as I do my own daughter. I hate to see you like this, I only wished to spare you any further upset. You have already suffered so much for one as young as you." She doted, continuing to wipe the tears that had yet to fall, "Surely Lord Baelish is a better choice that my Joffrey, yes? He will be kind and look after you; he will make sure you have everything you could have ever wanted and more. What more could you ask for in a lord husband?"

Sansa slumped her shoulders forward, refusing to meet the once Queen's eye, "There is no one better for me than Joffrey, it broke my heart when he chose Margaery. All I have ever wanted was to be his wife."

Cersei reached up and motheringly tucking a stray auburn curl behind the girl's ear, a small smirk of intrigue touching her lips. The girl might be able to pull off a convincing lie after all. She had clearly learned quite a bit during her stay in King's Landing and Cersei was beginning to think Littlefinger had gotten one thing right; the girl was much more capable than they had originally believed her to be.

"Don't worry, my little dove, everything will be alright." Cersei promised, "You will remain safely here, in King's Landing, and I will help you maneuver the ways of wedlock by every method I know how."

"W-will you stand with me? At the announcement today, that is. I…I don't think I can do this on my own…" Sansa continued, still refusing to meet her eye as she remembered what Lord Baelish had told her about her inability to lie.

She winced at the memory, considering how Lord Baelish wasn't just her adviser any more but her betrothed. The man she would be tied to for the rest of her life. The tea she had drank twisted in her stomach, making her nauseous.

"Yes, little dove, I will." Cersei replied, her eyes gleeful, "Do you have any questions or would you prefer to be left alone to get ready for the day?"

"I think it would be best if I get ready, it is going to be a very important day." Sansa answered, a sign on her lips as she looked to the window. She wanted nothing more than to be left alone with her thoughts.

"Very well." Cersei stood to take her leave, "I will meet you outside the main doors before the first meeting. Also, I will advise you to keep this between us for the time being, I took a great chance in coming to you before the announcement."

"I will." Sansa promised with a nod of her head.

They exchanged pleasantries and the Queen Regent started towards the door, "Oh, and Sansa?"

The girl looked up, having composed herself and knowing she needed to continue the façade of reliance on the Queen Regent for the time being. For what reason, though, she wasn't quite sure, "Yes, my lady?" She replied.

Cersei smiled, resting a head against the doorframe, "I am sure you will make Lord Baelish very happy, congratulations on securing such a deserving match. I pray you have many healthy sons to carry on his House name."

"Thank you, my lady." Sansa replied with a bow. Her eyes wandered to her small hands, which were folded neatly in her lap, "I will do my best to be an honoring lady wife to Lord Baelish."

"I am sure you will." And with that the Lioness took her leave, leering wickedly as she went on her way.

Once the door was closed, Sansa moved to her bed and fell back on top of the covers. She knew it had been too good to be true, thinking she could secure a betrothal to Ser Loras Tyrell was nothing but a fairytale.

She would always be destined for tragedy; it was just how the gods wrote her story. But, Sansa was quickly learning the rules of the Game and how to survive the lot Fate had dealt her.

 _Look at the silver lining, just as Father always taught you, what good can come out of this?_ She thought, closing her eyes tightly and willing her thoughts to move outside of her pity.

Foremost, all though Lord Baelish was quite a bit older than her, he was a seasoned Player of the Game. Not only would he most likely protect her from the Game of the Lannisters but she had known him and his character long enough and could guess at what he truly wanted. She knew if she gave him just a taste of what he desired, she might be able to secure what she needed most; namely, protection from those at court and a way home. In addition to what she sought, she might even be able to learn a few of his tricks if she could earn his trust.

Secondly, she had seen the way he looked at her when they crossed paths. It almost mirrored the longing gazes he cast after her mother – who Sansa took after. Surly that was something she could use to her advantage in the times to come.

Now Sansa wasn't conceited, but that didn't mean she was oblivious to the attention she drew at court from the different lords and sers. The lust that consumed the air around her grew more burdensome with each passing day as she reached her full potential as a Lady of House Stark; it was almost unbearable. Part of her was actually grateful that she was now spoken for, hoping that would lessen the pressure she felt when she was outside of her room and give her a cloak of protection against the vile pursuits of others.

More than just the looks of others, though, she knew from the stories and rumors she had come across about Petyr Baelish that she would be paired off with a man who could easily fall trap to the manipulations of those who carried Tully blood.

A small smile played across her face as she uncovered what leverage she had.

Lord Baelish was a man that wanted everything, something he himself had made quite clear in their interactions, which meant that he would seek to win not just her body but everything that made her who she was: her heart, her mind, and her soul. He would desire to own her completely. It would become a Game in itself, one that might consume him enough in a need to win that she might just get what she wanted.

Though she had come to see him as a companion, even an ally at certain points during their encounters, she knew better than to give herself fully to someone who thrived in the court of King's Landing. No, she would have to guard herself and not fall into his Game of Charm while she played him with her own Game.

She would make him work for everything he wanted; and the first thing she would request in return for her granting him access to her surface thoughts would be to move out to the country, somewhere away from courtly life and the Lannisters, somewhere North. But, to do that, she would have to continue learning the Game and become as skilled a player as the master so that he wouldn't know he was the one being played like the pawn.

"You're a Stark, House of the Unyielding Direwolf." She whispered to the room, resting her hands over her stomach as she gazed up at the ceiling, "You are not in Winterfell any longer, honor isn't understood in this Game. You must adapt to survive so that you can return home." She advised herself in a hush, closing her eyes and trying to remember what home even looked like.

Another knock sounded on the door and Sansa hurried to sit up, "Come in." She answered, trying to straight out the wrinkles in her skirt.

Shae came in with a soft smile, "My lady, you have barely touched your food. Are you feeling well?" She asked, coming over and placing her hand against the young girl's forehead.

Sansa smiled, putting a mask of her own in place, "Never better, I have just heard the most wonderful news." She cooed, suppressing the bile that threatened to rise in her throat.

"Oh, does it have to do with your Ser Loras?" Shae inquired, ushering the girl to move before the vanity so that she could set to work on her hair.

Sansa saw herself wince in the mirror but quickly recovered, thankful that Shae was too busy to take note, "I am not at liberty to say just yet, they will announce it in court this morning so I must look my best."

Shae looked up with her soft brown eyes, meeting the girl's reflection, "I promise you will never have looked more beautiful once I am finished."

XxX

Sansa stood with her head high, her shimmering, auburn hair cascading loosely around her head in a Northern style, as she waited on Cersei to make her appearance. Every once in a while she would shift from foot to foot, forcing the thick, black material she wore to shift and appear celestial as the blue and silver threads sewn throughout it were caught by the light. It was a dress she had completed just before they left Winterfell and one she had been saving for a special occasion; what better time to wear it than the announcement of her engagement to show just how unmoved she was by the Lannister's newest ploy? She was a Stark and refused to bow before any sort of cats.

"Sansa?" Came the sweet, inquiring voice of Margaery Tyrell.

The young Stark smiled softly when she saw her friend ascending the stairs to meet her. Margaery, who had already taken to dressing with the style of a Queen, reached out and took Sansa's hands in hers. Though the girl was a head shorter than her, Sansa still felt a comforting strength in her presence.

"Are you well, my dear friend?" Margaery asked, her face soft and her lush lips pursed in just a way to make them appear as a rose, "I have just heard the murmurs of what is to be announced. I am so sorry we couldn't act sooner." She reached up and brushed aside a stray curl, mirroring what Cersei had done earlier. But this time it was different. This was the comforting action of an ally instead of the manipulative move of a dethroned Queen.

Sansa bashfully looked away, her heart pounding and questioning if she could actually go through with such Games as these. Even Margaery, who she had come to see as a trusted friend, played the Game with such ruthless strategy. Sansa wasn't even certain if they were on the same side or not. Would she be forced to stand all on her own? A pawn against so many skilled pieces stood no chance at surviving.

"Good 'morrow Lady Sansa, Lady Margaery." Cersei greeted, her voice echoing off the tall stone walls as she walked toward the pair of beauties and breaking Sansa of her thoughts.

"Good 'morrow, Queen Regent." Margaery and Sansa replied with a short curtsy. The light brightened the blue colors the Lady of Tyrell wore and dimmed the deep reds that the once beautiful Queen wore. It was a sign of the struggle to come as the new Queen rose in power and the former unwillingly descended.

"Shall we join the court? It is never good to keep good news quiet for too long, that is how dishonest rumors breed." Cersei led the way, the two ladies following on either side.

Sansa's steps stuttered when she entered the grand room, there couldn't have been more than ten people in attendance. There was the Council and the main body of the court but there were no other onlookers; never had the room looked so empty before.

While the marriage contract between the Lady of a traitorous House and a Lord of lower standing would make great material for the gossips, Sansa could understand why they would keep the proceedings intimate. It was one embarrassment they chose to spare her and she was unnerved as to why, it meant something worse was to come.

The young Stark held her head high, remembering the grace and poise of her Lady and readied herself to keep up the spirit of a true direwolf as she moved through the thin crowd.

 _They already know, they all already know, they are just playing with me by making me come before Joffrey to receive the news_ , she thought, feeling every eye in the room on her as she made her way towards their place, _Don't give them any pleasure in this. Stand tall._

A flicker of silver caught her eye and she chanced a look to the stairs where a particular Lord stood with his familiar mockingbird brooch in place, dressed in his traditional mute colors. The light of the window filtered in, darkening the rich black of his hair and purifying the white on the sides. Oddly enough, this didn't age his face but somehow softened his features, bringing out the prime of his years. In that moment, he looked like a simple man with no agenda to be had.

The thing that most caught and kept the young girl's attention, however, were his eyes, which didn't watch her like all the others did but were instead lingering on the far wall, lost deep in thought.

Sansa slightly tilted her head, curious if this was another trick she should learn from or if she had actually caught him unguarded for a change.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he felt the presence of hers and, just as he turned to uncover who was studying him, Sansa dropped her head, trying to conceal the warmth growing on her face as they took their place opposite the Small Council.

"I call the court to session," Joffrey drawled, draped upon the throne that he never had to earn "for a very…special…announcement." His lustful eyes wandered to Sansa, who swallowed her nerves and did her best to settle her butterflies in preparation for what was about to be said.

Tywin stepped forward, his hands folded together behind his back, "Thank you, my grace." He bowed to his grandson before turning to those gathered, "It has been decided by the Small Council, with the blessing of the King, that the Lady Sansa Stark of House Stark will be wed to Lord Petyr Baelish of the House Baelish within this moon's cycle."

Sansa's eyes grew before she could stop them. There were only a couple weeks left in the cycle; never had she considered such a short betrothal would be planned when the news was just being shared this morning.

Margaery snuck her hand out and clasped Sansa's, giving it a squeeze, "Breathe, and fix your expression. Don't give yourself away." She whispered hurriedly in her ear before returning to her own Game.

"Because of the delicate nature of this situation, concerning both a House which we are still at war with and a desire not to interfere with plans for the Royal Wedding, this will be a short engagement which will cumulate with an intimate elopement between the pair and the High Septon in the Godwoods next week." Tywin explained, much to the dismayed look upon Joffrey's face. It was clear the King had been waiting for such an event to heap even more shame upon the poor girl. This time, however, Tywin was keeping Joffrey on a shorter leash so he couldn't jeopardize any future plans they might need Sansa for.

"With this match, we hope it will begin to rebuild our bond with the loyalists of the North. Once an heir is produced, a bond will forever be struck between King's Landing and Winterfell. We hope that this will also play to our advantages when we seek negotiations for peace in the years to come." Tywin concluded with a callous smile.

The room started closing in on the young Sansa, the realization of what her betrothal meant was fully revealed in that moment and all the courage she had once felt in the privacy of her room abandoned her.

She was going to be the wife of Lord Baelish, Master of the Coin and Keeper of Brothels. She would be married to one of the best Players of Games, who knew how to charm any King from his throne, any woman into his bed, and transform into whatever the moment called for.

She would be his utterly and completely. A companion during the day and his bed warmer at night, every day for the rest of her life, and she would be the mother to his children.

The thought struck her and her breath caught, unable to go deeper because of her tightened corset. Her pulse weakened and sweat beaded at her wrist and temple, filled with terror at what her marriage bed might hold.

 _No, keep your head as Margaery said_ , she chided herself and fisting her hands beneath the fabric of her sleeves, _If anything, just don't pass out. Don't pass out._

So, there she stood, a pawn being played for the Games of Men with no countermove to make of her own. Sure, her naïve attempts at flirts could possibly get her another lemon cake or a locket, but how she could have ever thought she was capable to keep afloat in these type of Games was beyond her.

The men continued to solidify the agreement, but Sansa was too caught up in her own thoughts to listen. Her eyes stretched her vision, pushing it out of focus. She saw Lord Baelish step up and say something to the Hand of the King, possibly agreeing to the betrothal or such. She could make out some of their words, which alluded to a need for discretion concerning the arrangement, but not much else as she swayed to and fro.

She would never see Winterfell again, she would remain a prisoner of King's Landing forever.

"Very well, the date is set for eight days hence." The case was closed with that final line and the doors opened to allow the full court in for the day's proceedings.

Without further pause Sansa made her way towards the entrance, her feet moving quicker the closer she got to the door. Those who called after her weren't heard in her haste, the only sound in her ears was her deafening pulse.

She burst through the front doors into the morning sun, looking around like a lost child, and took off without another thought as to where she might go.

Her will gave out once she reached a corner of the gardens. Collapsing onto the cool ground in the shade of one of the grand trees, and surrounded by her remarkable skirt, she created the picture of beautiful agony. Her small hands dug into the rich earth as her chest rose and fell rapidly, searching for a deeper breath.

"Sansa?" She could hear Margaery call off in the distance, "Sansa?" Another called out her name from the opposite end, and even another followed upon that one.

Not wanting to be found, she forced herself back onto her unsteady feet, her eyes sketched with tears, and started making her way towards the Godwoods, knowing no one would bother her there.

XxX

Petyr, like everyone else in the room, had been mesmerized by her beauty when she first appeared in the sunlit room, her dark dress, like a clear night, outshining both the Queen Regent and the Queen-to-be with ease. No other could wear such a dark color and still carry such a light of beauty; it was truly the Tully blood coming out in her. Petyr actually had to turn his gaze so as not to give the Lannisters any more knowledge of his deep seated longing for the girl.

Throughout the announcement he had kept a subtle, unobtrusive eye on the girl, waiting for the gravity of the news to fully consume her. He was ready to act at a moment's notice if she succumbed to a faint.

He wouldn't put it past Cersei to have forgotten to speak with her, hoping maybe to add insult to injury by letting the girl be caught off guard, but, then again, he couldn't see Cersei missing an opportunity to deliver bad news. Either way, he stood poised, ready to act if need be.

So, when they had made it through all of the cordial speeches and clarifications, he was quite surprised to see her still standing with her head high. The only thing to give her away was her eyes, which were the dullest he had ever seen them. She was a lamb who had just realized her fate before the lions.

 _She's going to run_ , he knew right then and planned accordingly so that when the case was closed and the doors open to the public he had already snuck towards one of the far doors and out the back. He had just time enough to catch the dark humor mirrored on the Lannisters faces at the girl's pain and his heart, if there was anything left of it, ached for her.

XxX

Just as Sansa took the corner, her sanctuary within sight, a figure stepped out from the bushes and collided with her. A pair of strong hands gripped her shoulder, keeping her up right.

Closing her eyes, she tried to will herself to stop shaking but couldn't. She almost prayed that the person who had found her was actually an assassin and would put her out of her misery right then and there.

Her hands rested against the chest of her captor, feeling the rough embroidery of their outer vest. A familiar smell of freshly written parchment and the musk of books drifted before her nose from the coat, bringing her an odd sense of peace.

"Thought I might find you here." Came an even more familiar drawl.

Her shaking grew worse, "L-Lord B…Baelish." She managed, her eyes still tightly shut and her fisted hands still resting against his chest.

"Please, call me Petyr." He replied like he always did when she addressed him by his title. His hands still rested on her tense shoulders as he spoke, "Breathe, little one, there is no need to worry yourself into such a state." He advised, brushing back her ruffled hair.

Tears of anger and resent began to stream from her eyes; anger at herself for how she acted and how she couldn't seem to control her emotions, and resentment for her lot in life.

"Would you care to walk for a while together? The fresh air would do you some good but I am not sure you will be able to stand on your own." Petyr offered, attempting to look at her blotchy face, "Aye?" He continued, keeping a loose hand on her arm as he stepped back, making room for her to walk.

Obediently, she nodded slowly and started shuffling her feet forward, unaware of his guiding arm on her elbow. They walked on in silence; Sansa staring at the ground and Petyr gazing out at the trees.

"I'm not sure I have ever visited this Godswood before. I've only ever been to the one outside of Winterfell." Petyr said after a while, testing the waters.

Sansa nodded, "Yes, they don't have any weirwood here like they do back home."

"I thought you said King's Landing was your home." Petyr jested, a playful twinkle in his eye.

The nervous girl froze, having forgotten her mask when she ran for her sanctuary, "I—I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, please, do not apologize for telling the truth." Petyr turned to her, taking her hand in his and gingerly patting it. He leaned forward so his lips just touched her ear, "You are safe here, among friends even. There is no need to hide your true self."

Sansa pulled back, uneasy by their proximity, and nodded before taking back her hand and continuing on.

Petyr quietly sighed, looking after her, "If it helps, I did try and bid you more time in hopes that I might help warm you to the idea of our impending marriage and to give you time to mourn your lost family." He called after her, causing her to stop once more, "You have gone through a lot this year and I did not wish to add more to that. Everything was just out of my control. But I want you to know that I did try to push the wedding off."

Her back remained turned to him and he could see her muscles flexing beneath the dark fabric, questioning whether she should trust him or not.

A small grin played at his lips, hoping he might be on his way to winning her over, as he started towards her with a new thought, "If you do not mind my inquiry, my lady, are you against the match because of my age or my standing?" He knew his harsh question would assure him a response.

Sansa turned around sharply as if she had been slapped, her eyes slits, "My Father taught me better than that. You judge a man by his action, not his title. I'm insulted you would think of me with such avarice."

"So, tis my age then?" Petyr quipped lightly, looking up at her through his brow as he fixed his cuff.

"If you remember correctly, it wasn't _I_ but the _Council_ that decided to keep the match quiet for the time being even though they pushed for a quick elopement. I haven't said a word concerning my feelings on the matter. You all were the ones doing the talking, not I." She said, finding her earlier anger and taking offense at his intrusive questions when the wound was still so fresh.

Petyr rose a brow, impressed with how much she had heard, he had though she would just tune it all out once she heard who her match was with and the date they had set for it.

"There are plans in motion that cannot be effected by the news. You will understand how such things work when you are older." Petyr tried to explain gently, his eyes wandering across the peaceful wood. He caught sight of a large oak with a face cut into the bark and he quickly looked away, unnerved by the Heart Tree and the looming presence of the old gods. His eyes grew anxious as they wandered over the rest of the thick forest. Petyr had never been a superstitious man but there was something about this place that set him on edge.

"How can I trust someone as a husband when he earns his money by means of secrets and…brothels." She said, breaking his thoughts. The last word was said which such clear distain, her nose wrinkling as if it were a sin just to say it.

He studied her, wondering if she required an answer to her question or not. Sansa tightened her arms around her stomach and moved to sit on one of the natural ledges. The toe of her boot dug into the rich ground, creating a small hole as she sat quietly. A bird's song filled the silence, casting a magic spell on the pair and cutting them off from the rest of the court. For that moment, there was no one else in the world but the two of them.

"I am nothing more than a disposable pawn in your Game. And I am just tired of it. All of it." She whispered, her voice almost lost in the wind. But Petyr heard her clear enough and made his way to stand by her, dropping to his knees so that he could be eyelevel with her.

Sansa winced, not at his action but at the fact that she was giving so much of herself away. Today had been an absolute failure; she would have to start anew tomorrow and she swore she would do better than today's disasters. There was nowhere left to go but up anyway.

Attentively, Petyr reached out and took her hands into his and, ever so carefully, brought them up to receive a chaste kiss from his lips.

"Ahh, my sweet little one." He placed her hands back in her lap, covering them with his, "Yes, Sansa, you may be a pawn, but you are far from disposable."

She looked up, the confusion etched in her face and locked deep within her eyes. Never had she expected him to admit to the Game.

He smiled gently, letting his eyes linger on their entwined hands, "I understand how you feel better than you could possibly know. You are powerless and can do nothing but be shuffled around by the power plays of others. I too was once there, surely you have heard the stories." Petyr chanced a look at her and she turned away, confirming she had, "Oh, dear little Sansa, you are capable of achieving so much more. So much more. But, you have to trust me to teach you what you need to know. You have to let me help you and play for you in the Games you cannot."

Her eyes wandered back to his face, trying to decide what to make of his words. She had already been hurt by so many powerful men in her life and, if she was being honest with herself, she was scared of what Petyr Baelish might be capable of.

"One of the better parts about our match is that I can now protect you completely and absolutely. No harm will ever come to you now; I might even be able to take you away from this place." He brought his hand up to caress her soft cheek and took comfort in the fact that she didn't pull away from his touch but instead brightened at his words.

Sansa's moment of peace, however, was short lived when she realized she was just trading one captor for another, "I will still be a pawn, just in your Game instead of theirs." Her eyes moved to the tall castle, which was just visible above the tree cover, questioning whether she would ever be her own person again.

Petyr nodded, not denying the strategies he played, "A pawn you may be, but you will be my most beloved and treasured piece. One I will cherish with each day and protect fiercely from the others in the Game. There is no way of escaping the Games, Sansa. You have to trust my skill and that I will look out for you by any means necessary, you are invaluable to me and always will be." He whispered, his nerves growing at the sheer truth behind his words that he hadn't meant to reveal aloud. His eyes darted around, concerned that he might have been overheard. He was taking his earlier words of comfort to the scared girl too seriously; he needed to be careful with what he said because no place was truly safe in King's Landing.

Sansa's eyes wandered to his face, searching for any sign of a lie and finding none.

"Because of the hush concerning our betrothal," Petyr pressed on, trying to conceal what he had uneasily revealed to her, "We will elope before the Godwoods and the Heart Tree. So, see, you will have no need to worry about putting on a show for others. You won't have to worry about any Games on your wedding day and can act however you wish before the High Septon and me." He said, trying to bring her any measure of comfort.

"Yes," Sansa sighed, remembering the torment she had suffered by the Lannisters hands and knowing something else had to be in the works if they were giving her so much concerning her engagement. She had already fallen trap to Cersei's games, she wouldn't make the same mistake twice, "But surely Joffrey—"

"Joffrey will be caught up in the business of the kingdom, Tywin has assured me, and won't even know at what time we wed. It will just be the two of us, the High Septon, and the gods before who we will swear. No one else." Petyr answered with his relaxed demeanor, "There is no need to worry." He repeated, creating a mantra out of it.

Sansa flinched as if struck, knowing something must be brooding just under the seemingly calm surface. Her eyes wandered out over the small valley while the wind stirred, catching her hair up in a dance, "Can I keep my name or do I have to take yours?"

Petyr pulled back, caught off guard by her change in topic, "You mean your title?" He clarified, trying to figure out her thought process. Sansa Stark was a Game within herself and he smiled at the challenge, his wit would never be bored with her as a lady wife.

Sansa looked up to him through her lashes and, biting her lower lip, nodded.

"I do not believe that it would be wise to keep Stark as your name." Petyr cautioned, his voice soft as he broke the news, "It will make you appear as a loyalist to your family, who are condemned as traitors, and keep you constantly in harm's way. The Lannister would not take the decision lightly and could possibly retaliate."

He saw her face fall, her teeth continuing to worry her lip raw as the tears slowly began to trace down her cheek.

"But, if that is what you want and what will make you happy, you may keep it. They are asking too much of you with everything that has happened already." He tenderly began to draw circles on the back of her hand, appreciating how long she had allowed him to touch her and wanting to see how far her resolve went, "I would never require you to give up the last ties you have to your Father's House. Yours is surely a greater House than mine and you are marrying far below what was expected; my House will be forever grateful to be tied to one such as Stark." Petyr added, a twinge of guilt sparking in his thoughts as he remembered what part he had played in House Stark's downfall.

Of course no one could have foreseen what Joffrey had planned to do, but, nonetheless, he had played a significant part in her Father's defeat, something he never would have done had he seen any hint at the underlying plots. It was one of the few things he sincerely regretted, especially now that the Lannisters had reconsidered his offer to marry the girl before him.

Sansa gave a small, forced smile through her tears, "Thank you, Lord Baelish."

"Petyr." He corrected with his well-known crooked grin.

"Thank you, Petyr, for everything." Sansa said, her face warming at the informality of the name while his eyes brightened at how it sounded on her lips.

Closing his eyes, Petyr captured the moment in remembrance, taking comfort in the reclusive sanctuary and the allowance she gave him to hold her hands and even gift them a kiss, before allowing reality to set in.

Petyr stood and brushed off the dust from his knees before offering her his hand, knowing that their time of peace must come to an end for now, "Are you ready to return for the mid-day meal, my lady, and to your chaperones? The castle will surely have enough to chatter about once the rumor of our announcement has finished its circuit, we do not need to add to them by being found off on our own, my little pawn."

Sansa instantly colored at the new pet name, but nodded and took his extended hand. He rested her small hand on the crook of his arm and the pair started back in an amicable silence.

Every once in a while the young Stark would chance a glance at her companion, trying to determine if she could trust his silvery words or not. She was old enough to know that truly honorable men did not exist, but young enough to enjoy the sweet, honey like words he had whispered to her deep in the safety of the woods. The only question that remained was whether they had been sincere or just another move in his Game.

Petyr felt her eyes on him each time but kept to himself, pretending as if he was none the wiser as he basked inwardly at her attention.

The instant they stepped back onto the open grounds of the castle they were called away by their respected parties, bidding a quick goodbye to one another before parting.

"You have to tell me everything." Margaery cooed in her ear, taking her arm as they made their way to their private lunch.

Sansa cast a look over her shoulder and saw Petyr, who she didn't know had just stolen a last glace at her, walking away with the other men to finish a few loose ends before breaking for their meal. The look did not go unnoticed by the skilled Tyrell and her eyes grew content, knowing the match couldn't be too bad if she was already looking after him and that a pair such as Lady Stark and Lord Baelish would truly be a great card to have in her hand.

"There is nothing to tell." Sansa replied, turning back to her friend with a scarlet face. She knew then that, even if she didn't fully understand how the Game worked, at least, while they were hidden safely beneath the cover of the Godswood, Petyr had been honest with her. And that caused a genuine smile to slip across her lips, "Nothing at all."

XxX


	3. A Pair of Mockingbirds

XxX

Petyr Baelish spent the next week occupied with the spending plans for the Royal Wedding, barely having time to even bid a formal good morning or evening to Sansa when they passed in the halls or at meals, which he typically took alone in his room as he finalized budgets.

One thing he had time to take note of in their hurried interludes was that she had begun to wear her hair in the Northern style once again. No longer was she a mimicker of the ladies of King's Landing or the women of House Tyrell, she was a Stark and she was going to parade her banner in any small, unnoticeable way she could. He would always smirk, enjoying her little, harmless jabs at the crown; it showed just how much of her spirit was still left and he liked to believe it had been influenced by his words of laud.

Along with the pleasure he would feel each time their paths crossed, Petyr would also inwardly cringe when he recalled how much he had revealed that morning in the Godswood; it had definitely not been part of his plan to divulge his fondness for her, but there was something about that woods which stripped him of his lies and left him as clear as glass.

But where he had found his weakness, she had uncovered her strength and was unafraid of finding ways to wield it now. And for that he would forever give thankful to the mysterious trees.

"You are learning to play the Game well, little one." He whispered to the morning as he saw her starting down the path to the gardens. Petyr gave a low chuckle before he finished his drink.

 _Keep your enemies confused and your allies guessing, you are learning to play quite well indeed_ , he thought, raising his goblet slightly in toast to her.

The girl had undoubtedly redeemed herself since the announcement, keeping her thoughts secret and her tongue dripping with honey. She had an answer for everything and the Lannisters were beyond fraught considering the change of events; never had they expected her to be so accepting of her match or concealing herself so well. Nor had Petyr, for that matter, though he guessed she was only being cordial about the arrangement because she would finally be out of the direct line of fire. As his wife, there was less chance of her being Joffrey's kept woman and she would be assured protection under the cloak of House Baelish, a promise he was determined to see through completely.

"Lord Baelish?" One of his aids at court bid, wishing the lord to finish their business at hand, "We need your signature on this matter before we can move forward with plans."

Petyr turned back around and hastily signed his name above the intended line, "I believe that is all for today gentlemen," He set the quill to the side and dusted off his hands, "I have a pressing matter that needs tending to, if you will excuse me." With a respectful incline of his head, he took his leave and started down the steps two at a time. The warm sun met him and he stopped to regain his composure before turning towards the castle gardens.

He went on for a ways with his hands behind his back, amazed by how peaceful the bright day could appear when he knew how many plots were being schemed in the shadows.

After a while of walking around, he stopped and took in his surroundings. He was sure he saw the girl come to the gardens; it was, after all, part of her daily routine to take a morning stroll throughout the maze each day.

 _She probably went to the Godswood_ , he thought with disdain. Part of him began to consider what his original intent had been in seeking her company as he walked on. He hadn't felt a draw to all week, what changed now?

 _Because tomorrow you will become her lord husband before the Heart Tree and you haven't said more than three words to her since that morning. You can't charm a girl with three words said at random_ , his thoughts answered, causing his stomach to turn at the idea of having to go back into the accursed trees to find her. Was he really willing to chance going back into the sacred woods just to see her? Surly whatever, if anything, he had to say to her could wait until tomorrow.

Petyr was sure that there was an enchantment cast over the forest and that only the truth was permitted beneath its protected canopy of leaves. Needless to say, the goings of his heart had never been a comfortable topic for the heir of House Baelish, especially not after his humiliating defeat at the hands of Brandon Stark, and he wasn't willing to expose himself to such rawness yet again. With that settled, he took an alternative path and started back towards the castle.

Thought Sansa Stark had been something he longed to have since he first beheld her at the tournament, he couldn't afford to let her distract him from the Game at hand. He foolishly hadn't calculated all of the risks in finally having her as a lady wife. He, of any man, should have seen the potential risk in his offer; he, after all, earned his living off the secrets that beds gave up.

He had always considered her a naïve pawn, one that could easily be manipulated by the ways of men, but what if he was the one actually being played? She had put on a winning performance this last week, could she possibly be the master of her own motives and just buying her time? If that were the case, he would have to watch himself closely whenever he took his little wife to bed, for the times after lovemaking were surely the most dangerous for players that had much on the line.

His footsteps halted when he caught sight of a familiar silhouette kneeling within the knobby and twisted roots of a tree just off the path. Petyr moved back to keep in the shadows, his intrigued eyes watching what she was doing. At first he thought she might be praying, but on closer examination he saw her carefully cradling something in her hands.

"It's alright." Sansa cooed to the little creature, her small thumb lovingly stroking the blaze of a rabbit kit, "You are going to be alright." She lulled to it.

Petyr found himself caught up in how kind and loving her demeanor was; it was as if there were no worries upon her shoulders in that moment. He longed to find peace such as hers and, in that moment, he couldn't comprehend sweet, young Sansa ever having an agenda of her own besides getting home.

"I see that your leg is broke, that must be why your mother abandoned you." She sighed, filled with pity for the small, helpless creature, "I'm not exactly sure what it feels like to be abandoned, but I know what it is like to be orphaned and left alone in the world."

Caught up in her soft nature, Petyr unknowingly stepped forward and crushed a dried twig beneath his boot. The girl instantly startled, clutching the creature protectively to her breast.

Petyr was quick to collect himself with a charmed smile, "I am sorry, my lady, I did not mean to frighten you."

"It is alright, Lord Baelish." She replied, turning back to the little bunny, "I was just tending to this rejected kit."

"How can you tell he is rejected?" Petyr asked, his sincere curiosity coming through as he chanced another step forward.

"I have come upon him the last two days of my walk and he has grown thinner with each one. I was hoping his mother would come back for him but he has no such luck." Sansa mused, her tone sad and downcast.

Petyr cut his eyes to her face, trying to understand her, "Will you keep it?"

"I'm not sure how I can." Sansa replied, a darkness overcoming her eyes, "Joffrey will surly find a way to harm it. Nothing good ever survives here long."

He replied with a nod, understanding more than she knew as to what Joffrey was capable of.

Something stirred within his long walled off heart and he nervously looked to the ominous Godswoods, which could be seen just off in the distance. He felt his longing for her overshadowing his wit and he tried his best to push it away.

"Maybe you should put it out of its misery, then." He advised as gently as he was able.

She looked up sharply, her eyes alit with ire, "Why is it innocence must always be sacrificed? Why should he have to pay for something which was probably brought about by a man's misstep or an unleashed dog? Where is the justice in that?"

Petyr was sure that what she said went beyond the rabbit kit, but he knew it was not the time to discuss such matters and simply shrugged, "There is none." He answered honestly.

Abruptly Sansa stood, tenderly cupping her hand over the kit and starting down the opposing way, "Exactly."

Petyr rushed after her, forgetting his Game for a time, "I did not mean to upset you, my lady."

"No, no one ever does." She turned on him with narrow eyes, drawing him to a sharp stop. With her façade broken for the time being, she was left defenseless among the trees as her anger took hold, "For once I wish someone would truthfully admit to hurting me for the sheer purpose of gaining ground in their Game, at least then I would know that they mean what they say at other times as well."

Petyr held his hands up, attempting to calm her, "Easy, child, there is no need to disturb the little one in your hands." He nodded towards her gloved hand which concealed the kit.

Sansa hurried to open her hand and check on the creature before looking back up to Petyr, her eyes more docile.

"If you remember correctly, I was—" Petyr swallowed the growing lump in his throat, remembering his failure the previous week, "I was quite honest with you the morning of the announcement. I did not hide the Game from you." He met her eyes openly, "But I cannot admit to hurting you for the purpose of ambition, because that has never been my intent in my interactions with you. I have always sought to protect you from the power plays and strategies of others, not use you as one of them."

Sansa gave a dark chortle, rejecting his attempts at charm, "Protect me? You think of nothing but yourself and your Games. I have heard the stories, the rumors of what you have done. Go back to your games and secrets, Lord Baelish. You are no better than _them_ ; the only difference is that your lies are more finely crafted than theirs. I am finished with your deceptions and the demeaning way within which you make me false promises." She spat, the hate building in her eyes as her chest heaved, "I just want you to know that I now know your Game and will have none of it. I will be your lady wife by law and do all that is required of me as such, but if you think I could _ever_ love one such as you, with your standing earned by dirty tricks and even lower morals, then you are truly insane. You can have my body but I will never give my heart to a Lannister's whore like you." The disgust was thick in her voice as she twisted the dagger of words further within his chest.

Her time spent apart from Petyr had caused her to cast a dark light over their interaction in the Godswood and had twisted it to where it was nothing more than another play in the Game, another ruse. And, of course, Shae and others of House Tyrell had had a hand in turning her thoughts against him.

Sansa tossed her head back and clasped her hand carefully over the kit before turning to leave again, having had enough of men for a lifetime.

Petyr's harsh grip on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks and spun her around to face him. He took a hold of her shoulders, trapping her between his arms and forcing her to look at him. Terror seized her face when he refused to release her and only drew closer.

"I am _nothing_ like the Lannisters and have _never_ treated you as they have." He hissed through gritted teeth, "I have never once left you unguarded in King's Landing, never _once_ , since your Father's head was placed on that spike." Ire scratched into his marble eye as her harsh words suffocated his heart. It was the first time he had ever allowed such words to strike at him and reach their mark, "Whenever I was forced to leave for business, I paid a hefty amount to the only man I could trust to look out for you. But after we discovered his desertion when the dust had settled after the Battle of the Blackwater, I never once left you alone here, little one. Never. No, I have been looking out for you since the first day you set foot in the Red Keep, going so far as to put my head on the block thousands of times just to figure out what the Lannisters' play was and to direct their attention away from you. Do you have any idea of what I have been through to keep you safe? No, of course you don't, little pawn. Nor had I ever intended to reveal it to you and...I—" The idea that simple, biting words from young Sansa could shatter his defense with such ease startled the seasoned player from his anger and he drew back into himself, instantly releasing the girl, who was visibly shaken by his sudden outburst. Her head was still turned away when he freed her, her face contorted into a tight grimace.

"Yes," Petyr sighed, knowing he had upset the girl beyond easy repair, "I earn my money and title by secrets and games, but never once have I used you as leverage. With smoke and mirrors I have used your name but nothing has ever come of it – of that I have made sure." He stepped back, trying to give her space to steady herself, "Of course I used tricks, as everyone else in court has but...well, little one, do you recall what I told you after they ended your betrothal to Joffrey in favor of Margaery?"

Nervously Sansa nodded, not sure what to expect from the quick change of masks, as she continued to stare at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"Everyone in court is a liar, and I have told my fair share as well." Petyr admitted, guilt calming his demeanor further when he saw just how terrified she was of him, "But never once have I lied to you. This I will swear on any god you wish me too, any crown or any name. I never wish to hurt you or even to use you for the Game; I mean only to protect you. And, after tomorrow, I can fully."

"But, you will still play the Game." Sansa said, her voice stronger than she appeared.

Petyr gave a slow nod, "Aye, that is true. The only way to earn your freedom is by playing the Game and winning. But, as I swore to you beneath the Godswood, I will protect you by any means necessary. Of that you can be certain."

Cautiously he took a step forward and slowly reached for her free hand. His eyes watched her like he would a wounded fawn and silently asked her permission to proceed, which she granted him, still too intimidated to object. His slightly larger hand engulfed hers and he held it caringly between his. The sincerity that etched into his face, the sheer apology written upon it, as he gazed at her hand settled her heart and she recovered herself from her fright.

"I know I have to earn your trust, and my actions this morning have not done anything to help my case, but I promise I will keep trying to show you that I deserve your credence until my dying breath." He gazed at her hand as he spoke, but snuck a glance at her once he had finished, "I am sorry, Sansa. Truly." She did nothing but nod that she heard his words.

With a sigh on his lips, his eyes wandered to the hand which held fast to the injured kit. He knew instantly that he would regret what he was about to say but he knew he had to try and gain back some of her trust, however little what he had to say might give him, "If you want, you may keep the kit hidden in my study. No one ever feels a need to search my quarters as they do yours and he will be safe."

Again, she nodded. He released her hand, wishing her to say something, anything.

"I would apologize for the distress I caused you, but I know you wouldn't find comfort in the hollow words which no action has supported thus far. So, instead, I will ask if I might join you for the rest of your walk? You can say no if you like and I will let you be." He explained, his voice quiet and without manipulation. His bright eyes looked at her, wanting her to understand his sincerity, "But I would like to walk with you and spend some time getting to know the woman who will be my lady wife tomorrow."

She narrowed her eyes as she inspected his face, finding nothing but genuineness in his words. Sansa knew if she said no he would leave and if she said yes he would stay and that relieved her of the last anguish she still held onto.

"You may join me." Sansa offered him her free hand in a truce, knowing she could either accept her fate and work with the inevitable hand she was dealt or continue to run and be forced into the Games later without any hopes of an alliance.

Grateful for her move, Petyr took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. They strolled for a while in uneasy silence, the beauty of the morning having been desolated by their standoff.

"What will you name it?" Petyr asked after a while, unable to handle the tension any longer.

Sansa opened up her hand to steal a look at the babe, "I'm not sure. What do you think?" She returned, showing she was willing to try.

"Rabbit?" He offered and was rewarded with a small grin on her delicate lips.

"That is too obvious." She chided lightly, looking down at the small ball of grey fluff. Her teeth worried her lower lip as she thought, "Well, he is just as small and meaningless as myself, but I have already been bestowed the title of little pawn. Maybe he should be called Rook, it will be a title for luck so that he might do better than I."

Petyr grinned and gave an affirming nod, "Rook it is." His eyes wandered out over the forest as they continued on, appreciating that they had found something to bond over.

"I feel as if I have not seen you all week, my lord." Sansa commented as they walked, thinking back on the previous days.

Petyr turned slightly to her, his slanted grin painted across the far corner of his mouth, "You have been looking for me, my lady? I do apologize, if I had known you had been I would have made myself more readily available for you."

She brushed a deep scarlet but, before she could explain her question, Petyr answered, "I have been finishing business surrounding the Royal Wedding. Tyrion might have taken up the title Master of the Coin but he is essentially useless when it comes to budgets; I am still needed for the time being. This last week I have wanted to get more of the time consuming plans out of the way so that we could enjoy time getting to know each other without work hanging over my head." His eyes remained on her, wondering what she was thinking, as she considered his words.

The sun peered through the trees, lighting up their path and warming their small sanctuary as they continued on in a more comfortable silence. Sansa closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet smell of the day, remembering their last conversation and recalling the affirming words he had said today, however harsh they may have been. How easily she had discarded the trust she had felt in his words that morning in the Godswood because of others secondhand interpretations. Petyr had never been anything but kind to her, had even tried to take her home, how could she have allowed others to turn her against him?

A small, genuine smile brushed her lips and she felt a daring spirit stir within her as she decided then and there not to allow those around her sway her ever again. From now on, she had the final say on what she believed of others.

And she had decided that she could trust Petyr Baelish, who had been nothing but honest about the Game and his part in it, as an ally. He still had secrets to be uncovered, but she could wait until the time was right to inquire after them.

To celebrate her new found freedom, she would venture forth with the smaller questions she had been stewing over for the last week. The list grew in her head, circling her thoughts as she tried to pick one to ask first.

"Did you mean what you said?" She asked off the cuff, having completed the thought in her head but not aloud.

Petyr turned to her, his brow raised, "To which are you referencing, my lady?"

"When you said you would take me away from here last week, was that the truth?" She asked, her nerves growing as she turned to him; she was so scared that it had been something he said just to calm her at the time and that her rejection of his first proposal to sneak her away had ruined any second chances.

"Yes, I meant what I said." He answered, a testing look to his eyes. Sansa stared back at him, refusing to back down this time, and he nodded, knowing that if he wanted her to trust him that he would have to give her his trust first, "There are already plans in the making which will take me to the Eyrie on a hushed assignment for the Crown. I have already secured your place on the journey." He revealed in a whisper to her ear, his eyes darting to her eyes to see if she understood the gravity of his words, "This is something that must be kept strictly between the two of us, understood? If even a hint of it is spoken apart from this conversation, it will jeopardize any chance you might have had at leaving King's Landing."

"I understand." She nodded. Her nose began to wrinkle as her thoughts turned, "Eyrie…I have an Aunt that lives there." Sansa recalled.

Petyr inclined his head, suppressing a roll of his eyes, "Yes, your Aunt Lysa Arryn."

"I'm assuming it is to secure her support for the Crown? She has remained neutral thus far; at least, that is what the reports in court have said." Sansa deduced, looking to Petyr for confirmation, which he gave with a curt nod, "Aren't you worried that I will ruin your chances at securing her bid? I might convince her to side with the North."

"Ahh, but you are a bright little pawn." Petyr charmed with a quick wink, "You know the Lannister's bag of tricks, you know not of the Bolton's. I believe you will come to the conclusion that the devil you know is safer than the one you don't. Especially considering the one you don't know holds the blood of your mother and brother on his hands."

"They both hold Stark blood on their hands, just as they are both still devils." Sansa clarified, her interest at learning his strategy coming through, "How can you join their side knowing that?"

"There is no good and evil, little one, there is only grey. All of us have good and evil locked inside of us, and each comes out at different times depending on the situation we face. What matters," Petyr turned to his young disciple, enjoying the admiration held in her eyes as she waited on his answer, "Is staying alive. Your aim in life can be anything – money, power, or what have you – but you must stay alive long enough to obtain it. Such is the case with you and your freedom; you will have to do evil to accomplish what it is you want. You should know that by now, Sansa."

She nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts turning, "What is it you want?" She asked before she could stop herself.

Petyr's smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, "Everything."

"Money, titles, land, good graces with the King's Hand and a wife of a well-known House who can be held up as a show of your status. What more is there?" The girl mused, trying desperately to understand what else there was to have.

 _Peace_ , Petyr thought, keeping his face void of any give away, _Love given which is then returned_.

"So much more, little pawn." He patted her hand, which rested on his arm, "So much more." Petyr looked down to her other one, which held the injured rabbit, "Should we get the little kit back and some milk in his belly? If he has been this long without nourishment, as you said, he will surly appreciate a meal. We should also look at securing his twisted leg so he might have some chance of it working in the future."

Sansa nodded again, cupping the small one to her heart as they continued up the path to the castle.

"I have one last question, Lord Baelish." She said, coming to a stop as the castle came into sight. She knew once they were back in court that Petyr's mask would return, as hers would too. This was the last time she would be able to get a straight answer from him for a while, if he was willing to answer her question that is.

"Only one?" He jested.

She held her head, not giving into the flirt, "What is your greatest fear?"

The uneasiness that came over his face struck a nerve within the Stark and she instantly regretted asking her question, knowing she had crossed some unspoken boundary.

"Pardon, my lord, I did not mean to overstep." She turned away, her face flush, "I just know that once we are back—"

"There is no need to apologize, I told you that you were safe among the trees and I meant what I said then too." Petyr cleared his throat, taking his hand back and fixing his cuff nervously. Sansa grew disheartened as he pulled back, feeling as if she might have lost her only opportunity at securing his alliance.

Petyr chanced a look at her face, looking for any maliciousness. When he found none, he steadied himself and chose his words cautiously, "I fear…I fear that which is said in private might be revealed in public and result in my downfall. I have seen it happen to enough men, even played a part in those Games, and I do not wish to be the receiver of such treatment. Ever." He answered, knowing there was no harm in saying such; it was a trick everyone knew already.

Sansa nodded, accepting his answer and working through its meaning.

Petyr started to continue up the path, but was stopped by her quiet voice which cooed, "If it is of any comfort, P-Petyr," She stuttered to get out, "My mother taught me that the marriage bed is sacred and not to be influenced by those outside of it. Her and my father seemed to have a happy enough marriage and I respect and take her advice to heart. I will never betray you there, that is what I promise to you."

He could feel her eyes on his back, the sincerity of her words closing the distance between them. Slowly, he turned around to see her looking away with a red face.

A small, sincere smile touched his lips and he offered her his hand, "Come, little pawn, let us go feed your kit and tend to the rest of today's responsibilities."

She accepted his offer and the two continued on, having begun the crafting of their own sanctuary apart from the Godswood trees. It was like a seed planted before the winter, one which would lay dormant, steadily growing stronger, before bursting forth into an unyielding oak which none would be able to cut down.

XxX

The morning's light streamed in through the crafted wood blinds, casting patterns of all shapes on the small study. Stars of dust danced in the sunlight, highlighting the age of the books which lined the walls.

Petyr sat at his desk, a quill in hand suspended above a document and dripping flecks of ink onto it. Though he should have been concerned with the business at hand, his eyes lingered on the young girl who sat lovingly by the small wooden box where the kit now lived. It was the one thing she had found that she could love and which would love her selflessly back. Her eyes motheringly looked down as she stroked the small head of the rabbit, cooing sweet nothings at it.

 _She will be a great mother_ , Petyr marveled, a sweetness touching his lips. She had spent the better part of yesterday afternoon in his study, and then come back after dinner and stayed well after the midnight hour to tend to the little one. He was amazed by how many hours she could spend just sitting there, chattering with the babe.

She had been at his door by 7 o'clock that morning, concern etched on her face as to how the kit had slept and a bowl of milk in hand, and hadn't left her post since.

A knock sounded on the door, startling them both from their thoughts. Petyr hurried to look like he had been busy reading when Sansa looked up.

"Come in." He bid, scratching something on the paper and not bothering to look up.

"A message from the High Septon." The courier beckoned as he entered, his eyes growing when he caught sight of the young Stark kneeling in the corner of the room, blushing from ear to ear, without a chaperon in sight.

"Very well, let's have it here." Petyr drawled, holding out his hand to receive the note. He looked up from under his brow when the messenger delayed after handing it off, "Is there something else?"

"I have one for the Lady Sansa, as well." He replied, trying not to bring light to the impropriety of the situation. It was one thing to see each other the day of their wedding; it was another completely to spend so many hours alone in one another's company.

"There she is, studying as any good lady would. Feel free to give her your message and be on your way." Petyr ordered, unrolling the small scroll. The courier did as he was bid and left, closing the door behind him with a resounding thud.

"It seems," Petyr said, finishing the note and setting it aside on his desk as Sansa hurried to finish hers, "that the High Septon has set a time for our vows. Funny, I always thought an elopement meant those eloping got to choose the date and time."

"Not when there are other schemes afoot." Sansa remarked, tossing the now crumpled note aside and dripping a few more drops of diluted milk into the kit's mouth, "If anything you can trust a Lannister in it is getting their plans taken care of swiftly and timely. You shouldn't have assumed that anything would be in your control; it is all just an allusion where they are concerned."

Petyr leaned back in his chair, a playful glint to his eyes when she looked up. The girl had completely changed since their walk yesterday and had been chatting her thought aloud more often. She was either playing him quite well or she had decided to trust him as an ally for the time being, considering her eyes gave away every lie she tried to tell he assumed it was the latter.

"Indeed." One of his long fingers tapped his thin lips, watching the doting girl as she turned back to her pet, "I believe it is my turn to ask a question, my lady."

Sansa looked up with ease, having found comfort in his quiet demeanor over the last day. Petyr Baelish wasn't one that needed to chatter constantly and it was almost a relief to be around him after months around the wearisome gossips at court. She had stayed with him most of the previous day to look after the kit, not trusting a man to properly tend to the babe's needs, and found herself settling into a comfortable routine that she could easily see becoming permanent.

He would sit at his desk, working, while she kept herself busy, every once in a while she would ask a question she wasn't worried about someone over hearing and he would dutifully answer before returning to his papers. Petyr was perfectly alright with her curious nature as she explored the study, picking up a book or trinket every once in a while, and never chastised her for opening something she shouldn't have. It was as if he had no secrets to hide and wanted her to know it; that in itself made her suspicious and consider that he might have another place where he kept his deepest secrets.

"Yes?" She replied, curious what he had to say.

"If you had your choice, how long would you have waited to say our vows?" Petyr asked, his inquisitiveness showing on his face.

Sansa leaned back on her propped arms, thoughtfully considering the question, "Since you are the only one willing to teach me the rules of the Game and are willing to truly cloak me in your protection, I would have chosen a date sooner rather than later."

Petyr tilted his head, surprised by her answer, "Why?"

"Because you are a man of the Game, and you need to get a taste of what you want to continue including me in your strategy." She acknowledged cunningly, looking to him through her lashes.

"I already told you, I am not like them." He returned a bit sharper, matching her wit with a warning note to his voice.

Sansa rubbed the little kit's ear, enjoying the purring sound it made, "I never said you were. I said that you are a man that has wants. I too have wants you see." She continued, bringing her knees up and protectively wrapping her arms around, "I haven't even been playing as long as you have yet I feel the sheer desperation to achieve my ends already, I can only imagine the longing you have to cross something of that everything list you keep." Sansa shrugged, deciding on her next words, "I figure if we find a way to work together, each giving a bit here or there, instead of playing against one another, we will both get what we want sooner rather than later. We don't have to trust each other fully to build an alliance to take down a shared enemy. Thus, I call a truce."

Petyr inclined his head, silently gifting her the win.

"So we are to meet at the seventh hour beneath the Heart Tree tonight?" Sansa changed the topic with skill, keeping her tone easy and unreadable. Inside her heart, however, her pulse raced at the thought of her maidenhood coming to an end that night by the hands of the man sitting across from her. Her face erupted and she couldn't meet his eye.

"That is what the Septon has stated." Petyr replied, turning back to his work with a bemused grin, having a good guess at what she was contemplating.

"What do you think they want in return for giving us a private ceremony where no one can jeer and mock us? Their generosity is never free." Sansa inquired, keeping up the pretense of their Game as she referred to the Lannisters by the coded "they".

With a sigh, Petyr shook his head, his brow knitting with frustration, "I have yet to figure that out. They have been keeping me at arm's length since they told me about their change of heart."

"Change of heart?" She asked, a disbelieving brow raised.

"Since they told me that they had reconsidered my offer to marry you." He looked up briefly before continuing his work.

Sansa turned her head, letting her hair veil her face as she colored further, "Was that your alternative plan after I asked you to hold off on the first one?" She questioned, nervously sneaking a glance.

"No, it was actually an unplanned response to their plan to marry you off to Tyrion Lannister a couple months ago." He stated, not bothering with a look up. Petyr knew what she looked like when she was horrified, he didn't need to see her to know how she appeared now. The gasp was enough of a giveaway for him.

"It could have been worse; they could have married you off to Tywin." He continued, scratching off something and writing a note in the margins, "I'm starting to not look like the worst option, aren't I?" He looked up with a mischievous grin and she reddened further.

"Why—why did you offer then? Couldn't you have just snuck me off on your boat before the wedding?" She pressed, finding her Stark courage and meeting his eye.

His hand froze, the ink dribbling from his quill onto the paper, and he let his gaze linger on the door.

Sansa had gotten used to him doing this when she asked a thought provoking question and didn't take it personal now, knowing that she had struck a nerve involuntarily and that he would recover once he had time to think through the best response.

"It's not that simple." He finally stated, setting his quill aside and giving his attention fully to her, "The only other moves I could think of for you involved giving you to another player for the time being, by marrying you to another heir, and I wasn't willing to chance putting you into another abusive situation and removing you from my protection permanently."

Sansa's eyes narrowed in study, "There is something more."

Petyr had begun to pick up his quill but dropped it back in the dish, knowing she wouldn't let the topic rest, "Surly you have come to understand how I feel about you by now, yes? After all I have done and am willing to do for you?" He stated, wanting to be done with the topic and knowing it didn't hurt to confide the truth in her if they were truly coming to an understanding. Besides, she still needed him as a teacher and protector. Their mutual dependence upon one another wouldn't hurt to be spoken allowed as long as it stayed between them, something he was sure Sansa would do for fear of losing her chance at leaving the Red Keep.

Satisfied with her findings, Sansa nodded and turned back to the kit.

"You could have just married me _after_ you snuck me away from this terrible place." She mumbled to herself, her voice carrying across the open room and just catching the edge of his hearing.

He smirked as he continued to work, enjoying the challenge Sansa Stark was all on her own. His offer to marry her might have been unplanned, but never had he had such a spontaneous move playout so well before.

"Do you suppose they will try and play it off like we eloped on our own accord and will hold the threat of annulment by the King over us if we do not play to their advantage?" Sansa mused after a while.

Petyr's hand stuttered on what he was writing and he chanced a look up to meet her inquiring eyes, his own opening with realization of the brilliant play. He gave a small, satisfied smile at what she had uncovered and he had not, "And that is how you play the Game, my little pawn."

Sansa beamed at the praise and returned to her work, knowing she might have found her usefulness after all.

Leaning back in his chair, Petyr began to plan out countermoves, "That is how you play indeed."

XxX

The morning passed rather quickly, and they parted when the mid-day hour came to share meals with their respected parties; Sansa with the Tyrells and Petyr with his books.

"I promise the little one will be well tended to, he is past the age of hourly need and will be fine on his own. You may have your handmaiden come and collect him if you wish." Petyr promised as he walked her to the door, his hand lightly on her back.

Sansa nodded her head and stopped just outside the door, "I trust you to watch after him."

The line caught Petyr off guard and he pulled back at the weight the words held. Their meaning went far beyond the surface.

"Very well, my lady. I will not let you down." He inclined his head, knowing how much it must have taken for her to say that.

"I will send Shae to fetch him before dinner so we need not worry about him being on his own during our…" Her maiden face flushed, unable to complete the thought.

"I will make sure he is ready to spend the night with her. He will have his box and blanket as well as a bottle of milk and a spoon to feed him with; I will even send him with one of my favorite pillows if that will make you feel better." Petyr replied with a grin, not wishing her further distress on this day and knowing he needed to go above and beyond for her.

Sansa listed through her thoughts, trying to determine if she forgot anything and, when she had figured she hadn't, gave a respectful curtsy, "Good noon, Lord Baelish."

"Good noon, Lady Sansa." He bowed at the waist, falling back into their formality.

Tucking her hands into her sleeves, she started down the corridor. Her steps faltered and she turned back around one last time. Petyr's brow perked, curious what else she had to say.

"Make sure you bring everything you are with you to the Heart Tree tonight; I expect to be given all you have to offer when we exchange our vows. I will be your lady wife, after all, and will accept nothing less in exchange for what I will be giving you." She said with a decided nod of her head, trying to sound as much a player of the Game as he.

Petyr gave another deep bow, rejoicing in her words, "I will come well prepared, as you requested, my lady. You have my word."

With another nod, Sansa took her leave and left the lord to his thoughts. Petyr returned to the study and found himself sitting on the divan, lost in his memories of the last week. At one point, he even picked up the little kit, resting it protectively in the crook of his arm and caringly began to stroke it as Sansa had done.

He had already ordered his personal room cleaned and freshened for the arrival of his young bride and he had just completed the last budgets for the Royal Wedding. There was nothing left to do now but sit and enjoy the afternoon.

His thoughts tried turning to the Lannisters and their inevitable motives, but he couldn't focus on them at the moment. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to escape for a while.

The only thing he could think about was the fact that Sansa would be his lady wife before the sunset that day and would warm his bed once the stars had come out. His body ached, longing to know what it felt like to hold her and bestow a kiss on her petal lips.

Of course he had been testing the waters for a while now, a kiss of her hand here and a wisp of a touch on her back there – seeing just how far her resolve went where he was concerned – but even she herself had alluded to the fact that he would soon be gifted the greatest treasure she had to offer. Tonight he could have, physically, everything he wanted. It was a gift he had never thought he would have and yet here was the day on which he would be granted his heart's desires.

Of course, he would have almost everything he could want. It was then that his thoughts were plagued by her honest words from yesterday.

 _I will be your lady wife by law and do all that which is required of me as such, but if you think I could ever love one such as you, with your standing earned by dirty tricks and even lower morals, then you are truly insane_ , she had venomous spat. The wounds burned just as fiercely as they had the day before and Petyr found himself wincing at the memory.

Just because she had taken up his offer to store the kit and had called a truce for the time being didn't mean she hadn't been honest with him among the trees.

He sighed, remembering his harsh response to her words. He would have to prepare himself in case she ever said such things again; he couldn't afford to have what little trust she had left of him degrade any further. She was already taking a large step in offering him a second chance to prove himself, he couldn't afford to waste it.

 _Make sure you bring everything with you to the Heart Tree tonight_ …

He shifted at the words, questioning whether that meant the revelations of his past and the secrets he kept surrounding the downfall of her House or just the plans he would make from this point on.

"Aye, little Rook, what do you think?" He asked, holding the little ball up and meeting its soft, innocent eyes, "Should I tell her or let the past remain where it is?"

The kit twitched its nose in response.

Petyr sighed and placed the rabbit back in the crook of his arm, "Yes, I haven't made my mind up either."

XxX

Sansa nervous stared at the mirror as Shae pulled back and twisted her hair in the traditional style of Northern weddings.

"Are you sure you don't want something more like that of the ladies in court? Lord Baelish will surly wish to have a wife of—"

"I think not." Sansa replied, studying her reflection, "He chose me for who I am and he will receive me for who I am; nothing more or less." She smiled triumphantly at what she found in the mirror, content with her inner strength.

Shae's face twitched like she wanted to disagree but she nodded and continued her work. After her hair was done, with small pearl tipped pins spread throughout, Sansa began to ready herself in the simple, emerald green shift she had chosen specifically for the occasion, having selected it because it recalled the trees within which she had come to find so much peace. She gave herself a waist by cinching a finally craft silver belt, constructed of a trinity of silver metal strands twisted together, around it before hiding herself away in her black cloak and readying herself to leave.

"Will you need me to walk with you, my lady?" Shae asked.

"N-no, I...I should be alright. I know the path well." Sansa said, her voice giving her nerves away, "Just…look after Rook for me, please, while I am away. I do not want him to be on his own for the night and I do not think Petyr will take kindly to my distraction…" She trailed off, her face matching her hair.

Shae gave a nod of her dark head, not wishing her mistress any more embarrassment, "I will stay by him all night, my lady, and I promise no harm will come to him." Without further comment, Shae took her leave, knowing Sansa would need a moment alone to compose herself before leaving.

Sansa cast a longing glance around her room, knowing she was closing the door on her childhood. Though it felt like that door had been shut a long time ago, tonight she wouldn't teeter between the title of girl and woman any longer; she would become a full-fledged matron. This young direwolf pup would spread her wings and join the mockingbird's Game side to continue the fight for her freedom.

With one last sorrowful look from the doorway, she carefully reached for the handle and roughly pulled it closed behind her, refusing to look back, and walked forward, holding her head triumphantly when no tears came.

XxX

Petyr had waited patiently for the handmaiden to come and collect the little kit, fully dressed and waiting to take his leave. Part of him was reluctant to hand him over, not only because he had found company in the little Rook but because he knew Sansa wouldn't be able to sleep apart from him. Petyr had seen the rich, dark circles under her eyes this morning and had no doubt that the same event would be repeated tonight. So when Shae came to pick up the precious package, Petyr approached her with his request.

"Will you bring him back after dinner?"

Shae narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him and trying to uncover his hidden motive, "Why?" She asked bluntly.

"Because Sansa will not appreciate being parted from him for so long." He offered in explanation, though he wasn't required to give her one.

A distrust lingered in her eyes, but she gave a curt nod and left without another word.

Petyr turned back to the small mirror hanging on his wall and straightened his collar, his hands unsteady as he did so.

"You have taken your share of maidenheads; there is no reason to feel so unnerved by another." He chastised his reflection, though he knew Sansa Stark was anything but another name to his list.

There was something about this girl that, like the forest, kept him spellbound. Just seeing how she had broken down the defenses he had spent years mastering yesterday would be enough for any man to question his decision in moving forward with the match.

But Petyr Baelish wasn't any man. Where other men cowered at a challenging wife, he relished in it, knowing what value having one would be.

Sansa had already proven that his time was well invested; her cleverness and understanding went well beyond anything he could ever have imagined in one so young.

 _No, she is far more important than any others have ever been, will ever be_ , he thought with an accepting light to his eye, _Not just because of the weight in her title or the beauty of her face but for the spirit of her heart and the strength of her will. She is truly a masterpiece to behold. What an amazing Queen she will be once she reaches the far side of the board._

Petyr moved away from the mirror and collected the cloak he would bestow upon his young bride before taking his leave of the small room, knowing that when he returned he would be a lord husband with his lady wife by his side.

XxX

Petyr was the first to arrive at the Heart Tree where the High Septon, who greeted the groom with a nod, was waiting.

The sound of soft footsteps against the crisp grass caused them to both look up, basking in the cloaked beauty who strolled through the dusk towards them. If he believed in nymphs and their magic, he would have thought she were the High Queen of the Godswoods who had him trapped under her spell. Never had he seen her so radiant.

Petyr offered her his hand, to lead her before the grand tree, and she tentatively took it.

"Do you both come here willingly and without force?" The High Septon asked when they had taken their places, "This is sacred ground and only vows of pure heart can be made upon it."

Petyr looked to his bride from the corner of his eyes, "I do." He said and meant.

Sansa swallowed slowly and nodded her head, "I do."

"Very well. You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The High Septon continued, stepping off to the side so that they stood alone before the Heart Tree.

Petyr removed the cloak and opened it with a flourish, letting the green and silver sown sigil of the mockingbird catch the light; it rested vibrantly against the rich, chocolate and charcoal panels of the cloak.

Sansa lowered her hood and unclasped the buckle of the one she wore, letting it drift from her shoulders and pool around her feet. Petyr stepped forward, carefully placing it across her shoulders and making sure it was secure before he retook his place.

Sansa felt her nerves growing and, boldly, she reached out and took his hand, needing an ally. Petyr startled at the contact and looked down to her small hand, which held fast to the side of his. Sansa blushed while he smiled softly, taking her hand into his and giving it a light squeeze, letting her know she wasn't alone.

"We stand here in the sight of the gods to witness the union of this man and woman. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The High Septon continued in his routine, "If you will turn to one another and speak your vows…."

The pair turned to face one another and held their entwined hands up for the High Septon to wrap the ribbon around them, binding them together. Petyr's eyes lingered on her face while she kept hers lowered modestly, trying to remember the words she was to say.

"I am hers and she is mine…" Petyr began, trying to help her.

Sansa finally met his eye, finding comfort in his lead, "I am his and he is mine…"

"From this day forward, until the end of my days." He gave a gentle smile, encouraging her to finish.

Taking a steadying breath, Sansa went on, "From this day, until the end of my days."

"With this kiss," Petyr stepped forward and Sansa hesitatingly shifted her foot back, stopping herself before she could fully move away. Her gentle eyes looked up to his and Petyr knew then how much strength his little pawn had, how willing she was to do whatever it took to get home.

His hand tenderly reached up and caressed her face, trying to let her know he would never harm her.

She began to quiver, her lashes kissing her warmed cheeks as she closed her eyes. Sansa's heart rushed, knowing this would be the first time she had ever been kissed by Petyr Baelish.

"I pledge my love." Petyr smiled, peering down to her soft lips as he leaned in and chastely pressed his to hers.

Her innocent lips parted against his and remained so when he pulled back, his thumb gently brushing her jaw.

"Let it be known that Sansa Stark of House Stark and Petyr Baelish of House Baelish are now one heart and one soul, now and forever. What has been vowed before the gods, let no man ever separate." The High Septon concluded.

Sansa still stood with her eyes closed, her lips rosy from the kiss. Her ears expected to hear applause, like she had seen at other weddings, but there was none. There would be no feast, no bedding ceremony; the latter of which she was grateful.

It was then that she realized the Lannister's reasoning for keeping the wedding private; they wanted her to feel like nothing, and they had succeeded. She was of a traitorous House and dishonored among Westeros; undeserving of any kind of respect or honor.

When she chanced opening her eyes, doing her best to withhold the tears, she saw the lightheartedness in Petyr's eyes and the joy that couldn't be hidden in his blissful smile.

 _He doesn't care that there is no grandeur or pomp for our wedding; I am enough for him. He cares for me_ , she thought, the revelation reflecting with surprise in her eyes, _Not just as a playing piece or a token reward, he truly cares for me_. _I am not nothing to him._

She knew that this hadn't been what she dreamed of for a wedding or a match, but, for that one moment, she received she had what she had always wanted most; the gaze of someone who cared more for her than life itself.

The wedding wasn't grand and there would be no feast after, but it was clear from that one look that he didn't need any of that for their marriage to be real. She was enough for him.

"May your marriage be blessed with many sons and may you be granted a plentiful of years together, may the gods always look upon you with favor and may you always find joy in your home." He spoke as he untied their hands, a meaningful smile on his lips.

The stillness of the night filled in around them, the erupting chatter of the forest creatures and the twinkling of the stars were the only acclamation they would receive of their pronouncement.

"Shall I escort you back to the castle, my lady wife?" Petyr asked, the title doting and sweet on his lips as he held fast to her hand which he had yet to let go of.

Sansa nodded timidly and retrieved the cloak she had brought with her, casting it over her shoulders to conceal the one she had received, before they began their trek back.

With skill, Petyr snuck them back through the manor, somehow avoiding all those in the busting castle, and stopped before the door to his room. He gingerly let go of her hand and opened the door, inviting her to go in first.

"S-Shae?" Sansa stuttered, seeing her handmaiden by Petyr's desk as she stepped into the room. She pulled off her cloaks and set them on the divan, letting her dress catch the light of the fire and erupt into a beautiful silhouette of forest shadows.

Shae looked to Petyr, her eyes narrowed, "He told me to bring your little kit back after dinner but I did not want to leave him until you returned."

"Rook?" Sansa's face brightened and she rushed forward, picking up the small pet in a hurry and cuddling him to her face. Her eyes wandered back to Petyr, who stood in his typical stance by the door, "Thank you."

He inclined his head in recognition.

Shae picked up her outer coat and started towards the door, "The Tyrells wish to break their fast with you early tomorrow, I will come fetch you by first light."

"There will be no need for that." Petyr replied, catching her off guard. He let a light smile touch his lips, reminding Shae she wasn't in a position to disagree with him, "It is unbefitting to expect a bride and her bridegroom to be awakened by such an hour the morn after their wedding. Perhaps the Tyrells will settle for a late lunch instead, yes?"

Sansa looked away from Shae's sharp stare, choosing instead to coo at Rook as she faced the window.

 _He is my lord husband, he has the final say on this matter_ , she thought to herself, enjoying how Rook leaned into her touch.

"I will come later, then, to fetch her so that she can get ready for the day in her room." Shae countered, her voice taut.

"This is Lady Sansa's room now." Petyr reminded, his tone warning as he stepped forward, towering with ease over the woman, "We will send for you and have her things moved in first thing tomorrow once we have awakened on our own accord. For now, it has been quite a tiring day and I wish to be left alone to enjoy the evening with my lady wife." His eyes flitted to Sansa, whose blush grew, knowing his eyes were on her.

"Very well." Came Shae's clenched response. She cast a dark look at Petyr before she left, wishing she had been able to persuade Sansa to hate him as much as she did.

Sansa winced involuntarily when the door slammed, her eyes staying nervously on Rook, "I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you having him brought back tonight, my lord."

"Petyr." He replied, a playful tone to his correction as he moved across the room. Petyr was starting to wonder just how long it would take the young girl to get used to using his first name; surely he had given her enough permission to do so.

She turned back to him with a modest smile, "Thank you, Petyr." Her voice was more confident this time.

He reached out and scratched Rook's head with his finger before looking to the window and the large moon that shone over the tumultuous sea, "It looks like we might be in for a summer storm tonight."

"The rain will be nice for a chance." Sansa replied.

Petyr looked far out over the scene, watching as the last rays of the sun dissipated in favor of the stars, "Are you ready to settle in for the night?"

She looked up to him and nodded, worrying her lower lip when he didn't turn to her.

He caught the movement from the corner of his eye and returned the gesture, "Very well. My private quarters are just through the door, there. I have one last piece of business to attend too, I will join you as soon as I can." Petyr explained, moving to his desk and reluctantly picking up a new letter that hadn't been there when he left.

Again, Sansa nodded and picked up Rook's box before moving towards her destination. Her stomach fluttered when she clasped the handle, knowing she hadn't dared to venture this far during their time that day or the one before. Nervously, she peered around the door and took in the cozy room. It was well tended and open; only a few pieces of furniture littered the room with a roaring fire to match the one in the study.

Her face flushed when she caught sight of the bed and she quickly turned away, her eyes stumbling upon a painting hanging above the mantel. She moved forward, setting Rook's box off to the side, and standing before the art piece.

The colors were simple, the strokes were precise and yet random at the same time. The scene was of a forest, but Sansa couldn't tell what time of day it was. Stars were scattered throughout the limbs but she could also see streaks of sunlight.

Petyr came into the room, his eyes still mulling over the note, "It seems—" He stopped when he saw her intently studying the piece, "Beautiful, isn't it?" He smiled, pulling the door quietly closed behind him.

Sansa turned towards him and nodded, "Very. What is it of?"

"Ahh, that is the allure of it. No one knows." He answered, coming to stand beside her with his hands tucked together behind his back.

Sansa continued to gaze at the stunning piece, "What was the letter for?" She asked, not bothering to turn to him.

Petyr smiled, having gotten used to the tone she used when she asked something she knew she probably shouldn't have and yet still expected an answer to. Sansa met his eye, which told him she wouldn't accept anything less than the truth.

"I was going to tell you when I walked in but you were…occupied." He defended lightly, trying to gain more of her trust, "It turns out that the Tyrells will not be able to claim you for lunch tomorrow." He held up the letter for emphasis, the wax sigil of the lion catching the little light in the room, "The Queen Regent has already requested your presence during hers."

"They couldn't give me just one day of peace?" She bemoaned.

"I believe that is what you received today; tomorrow the Games will pick up right where they left off." Petyr replied, "That is just how they work, there is rarely rest for the wicked."

Sansa nodded, moving to rearrange Rook's box and put him to bed. Petyr watched her tenderness for a moment more before moving to his bedside table and beginning the routine of removing his signet ring and brooch before starting on the clasps of his outer vest.

Sansa looked up once she was done, her nerves stirring her pulse. She hesitated before making her way to stand beside him. Petyr stopped what he was doing and looked to her from the corner of her eye.

Embarrassment reddened her face, and she hoped he wouldn't ask what she was thinking. Her loose hair veiled her face like a traditional virgin bride.

Petyr turned around, his vest was opened enough to reveal his thin white tunic, which caused her flush to worsen. He gently cupped her face in his hands, "You are now a direwolf hidden among a flock of mockingbirds." He whispered, as if it were a secret just between the two of them, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Sansa's eyes fluttered closed, "I am your wife now, therefore a mockingbird myself." She stated, not appreciating the segregation she felt him crafting between their alliance, "I accepted your House cloak, I swore my vows of loyalty to you alone. Truly, I am now a mockingbird." She replied, the note of sadness unable to be disguised in her voice at the loss of her identity.

"You might be forever tied to the House Baelish line and my lady wife by law, but you and I both know you will always be first and foremost a Stark." He replied in a hush, moving forward and gifting her a second kiss. This kiss wasn't as innocent as the one beneath the trees; there was a spark of ravenous hunger that had been waiting centuries to be satisfied. Never had Sansa felt more desired than in that moment. She found herself leaning forward, her nervous hand coming to rest against his slender chest as she tried to kiss back.

And, just as soon as it had started, it stopped.

Petyr pulled back and forced himself back into his routine as the coolness of rejection shamed the young, naïve girl, who stood awkwardly to the side.

"A-are you mad at me?" Sansa asked, worried now that he had her that he might not want her anymore.

A grin touched the corner of his mouth as he pulled off his vest and moved to hang it up, "Nay, you did nothing wrong, little pawn."

"Then…then what's wrong?" She asked, following after him.

"Nothing, child. But this is one gift I can give you." He replied, turning next to his drawers.

She followed after him, hanging on his words, "What is that?"

He looked back to her, amused by her assault of questions, "You have had no say in anything surrounding this match – not who your husband would be or the date you would say your vows – but I can give you the power to decide when we consummate our marriage. I want you to come to me when you are ready, when you want it as much as I." He continued, pulling out a fresh tunic to change into, "Also, I promised that I would never hurt you. Forcing myself upon you this night would be hurting you and I refuse to give into my desires and ignore yours. I can wait." He replied, giving her a reassuring smile.

Sansa shifted from foot to foot, nervously pulling at her cuff, "Don't you want to produce an heir so that your line will be secure?"

"There is time enough for that." He explained, moving back to the bed, "Besides, it is much easier to look out for the safety of one instead of two in the court of King's Landing." He mused to the safety of their room. After a while of mulling through his thoughts, he slowly turned to her, "Do you wish to share a bed or would you prefer if I spent the night in my study?"

Finding her Stark courage, she stepped forward with her head high, "You have brought me to your room as your lady wife." She said boldly, remembering her mother's advice, "We swore our vows before the gods and are now bound together, never to be separated."

"That is very pretty speech, my lady, but the question only required a yes or no." He teased gently.

"This is our room." She continued despite her blush, finding her strength in his ability to wait, "We will both sleep here, in the same bed, from here on out. They have taken everything else away from me; I will not let them take away my value of being a dutiful and honoring wife as well."

Petyr looked at her with admiring eyes, his arms crossed over his chest in appreciation, "Very well." He nodded, watching as she moved to her side of the bed. Her nervous hands began untying her belt, having never done so in the presences of a man before, and removing the pins in her hair.

Wishing her to feel at ease, Petyr removed his day tunic to show her she wasn't the only one on display as he stood in just his trousers.

A small gasp escaped her lips and he winced, having forgotten to warn her about the scar. Her eyes looked on with pity while her hands covered her mouth, embarrassed by her reaction and trying to conceal it.

"It is a permanent reminder I received from a long ago lesson." He explained before she could ask, "I learned that day that I would never be able to beat my enemies with physical strength, but I would be able to conquer them with my wit." Petyr finished, pulling on his loose-fitted nightshirt and shifting the furs on the bed.

He kept his eyes lowered as she removed her outer shift in favor of her loose under slip and climbed into her side. The cracking of the fire filled the air, the only sound of the night.

"Is that when you started cutting yourself off from those you love?" Sansa's voice was a wisp of wind against the pops of the fire.

Petyr smirked, arranging his half of the furs and letting his head fall to the side to look at her, "You are too discerning for your own good, little pawn. You must learn that some questions should be left in your thoughts and not spoken aloud."

"I would like an answer." Came her defiant reply.

He sighed, his fingers ruffling his short hair, "Yes. That day I learned how weak love made me and I was determined to never let such trivial things distract me from the Game at hand."

Sansa nodded to the dark, her eyes lingering on the ceiling and the shadows dancing upon it.

"When did you start fearing being alone for the rest of your days?"

The question caused her brow to frown and she turned her head to him, "I am not sure what you—"

"Come now, why else would you agree to marry one such as me except that you were scared of losing me as an ally and of being left alone in King's Landing?" He pressed, his eyes continuing to watch her, "You could have kicked up much more of a fuss and insisted upon someone else. Someone younger and with a promising future." He thought of Ser Loras and knew that while Sansa wasn't his type he could have made her happy.

"There is a fault in your thinking." She chided, "Margaery is an ally of mine. I would still have her and her House if you abandoned me."

"Then why did you agree to me if it was not for an alliance?" He asked again, his eyes never leaving her face.

Sansa narrowed hers in study, not sure what the point of his question was, "You are a friend from home and have more experience than I in how the Game are played. I've known you the longest and I guess I trust you more than I do anyone else. But it is not because I am worried about ending up alone." She said, meeting his eye and pulling off her first lie.

Petyr nodded and moved to his back, his arms creating a make-shift pillow behind his head.

Sansa found her second wind and propped herself up on her elbow to look at him, "I have a question."

Petyr chuckled, "If you keep this up, you will be limited to three a day."

Sansa wrinkled her nose in a face and stuck her tongue out before she could think better of it, "It's not like we have anything else to do."

"Sleep." Petyr offered, feeling the weariness of his years as his eyes fluttered closed.

"You already told Shae not to wake us early and I will have plenty of time to sleep before my mid-day meal tomorrow." She reminded him.

"Very well, speak your mind, woman." He said in a light voice.

Her nerves got the best of her and she started twisting the long fur of the pelt between her fingers. She appreciated not only how much of the North Petyr had brought with him to court, but also the darkness that concealed her warm face.

"What will you…do…while you wait for me?" She finally managed.

Petyr couldn't help the laughter that filled his chest. Sansa scrunched her face again and, without thinking, picked up her pillow and wacked him across the face, "It is a serious question."

"I apologize, my lady." He replied through his chuckles, taking time to consider her question as he mused over her harmless temper.

Sansa grew impatient, "Will you visit your brothels for companionship?"

"No, I make it a point never to mix business with pleasure." He stated matter of face, "I know what sort of things slip out after lovemaking and do not like to partake in such things while in the city."

"Fine. Then will you partake in such activities at a brothel on our way to the Eyrie?" She pressed, the frustration cracking her voice.

Petyr sighed and sat up, wanting to see her face, "My vows tonight bind me to you as one heart and soul. The meaning behind these words is that I am yours – body, mind and spirit – and you are mine in the same way. I would not disgrace you by sharing myself with others and breaking my vows." He reached out and captured her hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss, "The couple times I have…participated in such activities have always been selective and planned out, I've never wish to father children I can never claim as true heirs." He offered, wanting her to know he withheld nothing from her this night as he met her eye, "From this day forward, I will share no one's bed but yours and I will give everything I am to you alone. That is what I swear to you tonight."

Sansa nodded, her wide eyes gazing at his face and finding nothing but his heart etched upon it. The clearness at which she saw him unnerved the player and he pulled back to his side with a clearing of his throat.

"Good night, little wife." He bid through the dark.

Sansa continued to watch his form as he turned away from her and settled in before she reluctantly followed suit, "Good night…" Her eyes lingered on the fire as she recalled his words, hoping beyond hope that he meant them, "Good night, Petyr."

Her worry that night would have been settled if she had only been allowed to witness the satisfied smile that painted across his lips before he drifted into the most peaceful sleep he had had, content with her by his side forevermore.

XxX

Petyr stirred as the first rays of light streamed into the room. The fire had gone out hours ago and the morning chill had set in.

A sweet smell filled his nose and he realized that there was a figure curled up into the crook of his arm in search of warmth. He smiled when he saw the tousled braid that fallen into her face and he gently reached out to brush it aside.

Closing his eyes and slowly wrapping his arms around her small form, he carefully rested his head against hers to fully capture her feel and scent and to take that moment to memory.

Though he had prepared himself to be on guard in their bed, he was quickly succumbing to her promise of protection surrounding their marriage bed. Never had he been offered such pure sanctuary before and the temptation was too great for the master to withstand.

XxX


	4. Plots and Alliances

XxX

The young newlywed stirred, the sun warming her eyes and bidding her to awaken. Sitting up, she stretched and let her eyes wander the unfamiliar room, wondering where she was.

Her heart jumped when she remembered and her body followed suit, looking to the other side of the bed, which was empty. She looked up, her nerves growing, "P-Petyr?" She called, her voice echoing around the stone room and returning to her.

Her hand pressed against her warm forehead, wondering if it had all been a dream. The cooing of Rook caught her attention, letting her know it wasn't a dream, and she moved to fetch him.

"How are you this morning, little one?" She greeted, reaching down and stroking his soft blaze. The kit leaned into her touch and she picked him up before returning to the bed.

The door creaked open, causing her to jump again and she hid the babe in her lap, under the blanket, in fear that it was a Lannister entering.

Her breathing eased when she saw it was Petyr and she pulled Rook back out, "I thought you were going to be one of _them_."

Petyr gave his charmed smile and inclined his head, "I am glad to relieve your worry, lady wife."

Sansa gave another wrinkle of her nose, "I think I prefer little pawn." She said, accidently speaking her thoughts allowed.

"Very well." Petyr replied, laying out the late breakfast he had brought in on the small table by the window. Sansa watched the movement of his slender shoulders through his faint tunic and saw the tension growing between the blades.

"I did not mean to offend, my lord, I just feel like my mother when I hear that title." The teenager replied, reaching for a robe that had been hung onto the post of her side and quickly concealing herself within it. She smiled, knowing Petyr had most likely laid it out for her.

He kept his back modestly turned to her until she was finished and had joined him at the table after returning Rook to his box and his own breakfast.

Gesturing for her to sit, he waited until she was comfortable to take his seat. Her eyes lit up at the manners he showed as a gentleman; no one would be able to tell that he was actually a ward who had earned his status instead of being born into it.

 _Cersei was being mean when she said such, but she was right: there is something very honorable in earning ones way in life, even with tricks. Not only that, but he is allowing me to decide when we come together as husband and wife and has secured me a ticket out of King's Landing for the time being. How can I possibly not respect him for the care he shows me?_ Sansa thought as she took the tea he offered her and let her eyes linger on him over her cup.

Petyr could feel her attention but kept his movements fluid and easy, not wanting to give her away and make her feel even more timid around him.

After a while of eating in comfortable silence, Petyr turned his attention from the window to her, "I am amazed that you have made it this long without any questions."

Sansa lifted her chin, holding back the childish urge to stick her tongue out. Those actions were permitted in the safety of their bed at night, but the morning did not offer such freedoms.

"Fine." She said, always having more questions than she knew what to do with anyway, "Why do you think they reconsidered your offer?"

Petyr toasted her with his cup, "That is almost too simple, since they told me at the time. They wish to keep me on their side and they hoped to secure my support permanently by giving me something I wanted."

"I believe it is more than that." She disagreed as she reached for a biscuit. Petyr's lip turned up slightly, appreciative that she was a lady who was comfortable enough to eat real food in front of him.

"Why?" He inquired, continuing to study her.

She shrugged, "Just a feeling. I know that their moves aren't one toned; they always have multiple plans behind a single play." Biting into her breakfast, she wiped at her lip before continuing, "I've been trying to keep a façade of naivety whenever I interact with them, knowing that they might slip on something important if they think I won't be listening attentively."

"Do you have to try hard at that, acting naïve that is, little one?" Petyr asked, a touch of sarcasm on his words and a grin on his lips.

She narrowed her eyes, unamused.

"It is a good plan, if you are able to pull it off; Cersei has a way of uncovering such masks with ease, however. But, it is always good to keep your enemies guessing and off guard, it is the only way to make ground. You did that quite well this last week; they were in a right state of confusion with your quick acceptance of the match. If you can keep it up, it will pay off in the long run." He complimented, rubbing his side as the old wound began to act up like it always did in the morning.

Sansa's brow furrowed, "Is that caused from your scar?"

"Careful, you don't want to waste the last two questions you have for today." He jested, trying to play the pain off. The grimace that sprung across his face when he rotated his arm gave him away.

She tsked as she stood and moved to stand before him, her arms crossed. He looked up to her in a standoff.

"You can't play if you are in pain." She stated, securing her win, "Now, let me see. I know a few herbal compresses I can make to ease the pressure of the muscles around it but I need to know how deep it is and whether the opening is infected or not."

Petyr stood and loosened the tie of his tunic. Part of him was reluctant to reveal his weakness to her again and part of him was relieved to know she cared enough to tend to it, even if it was just to continue in the Game.

Sansa readied herself, holding back the gasp she knew was to come when he pulled off the soft material and revealed the long, angry red gash across his stark chest. His skin was like cracked alabaster around the mark, making it appear like the consequence of dark magic.

Petyr let his eyes close, not wishing to see her disgust at his disfigurement. He knew he could never compare to one such as Ser Loras Tyrell, but he didn't need to see her tallying up their difference and the disappointment that would result in her eyes once she had finished.

The lord, for once, was wrong in his assumption. In reality, Sansa was finding herself amazed by the fact that he had survived it in the first place, "How old is it?"

"I got it when I was about your age." He answered through clenched teeth, feeling the presence of her hand hovering above the rough tissue of the scar.

"It clearly wasn't well tended after you got it." Reaching forward, she pressed her warm hand against his chilled skin to test the tenderness of it, "I'm sorry." She replied when he winced, her soft eyes wandering up to meet his pain filled ones. Petyr nodded slowly, biting his inner cheek to not give his true agony away.

"I can make up a compress and put it on tonight, hopefully that will make tomorrow an easier day for you. I'm not sure what I can do for today; any relievers I can think of for you to take might make you drowsy and I am sure you have things you wish to do today." Sansa continued more so to herself. She was drawn to Petyr just as she had been to Rook; her heart had always gone out to the rejected of the world and, with the lesson he had alluded to the previous night still in mind, the lord was slowly beginning to win her compassion.

Petyr let a genuine smile touch his lips, reaching even to his eyes, "Thank you, Sansa."

Her face colored as she turned away, choosing to check on the kit instead of meet his eye, "Of course, we are in this together." She mumbled, sharing some of the greens on her plate with Rook.

"I must say," Petyr watch her mothering as he replaced his tunic, "I much prefer your hair in the Northern style; it suits you better than the traditional ones found in court and shows that you are becoming a woman in your own right instead of having to mimic those around you. You are becoming a true Stark, Sansa."

Her face reddened further, knowing she hadn't taken the time to freshen before joining him, "I believe it is my turn to say thank you, my lord."

"Petyr." Came his expected response.

Her loose hair veiled her face, the small braids which had been carefully pinned up last night tangled throughout it, and she stole a glance, "Thank you, Petyr."

His face was candid and trusting, something he never could have shared outside of their room.

"Oh," He said, a second thought coming to him, "I received word this morning that within a week's time we will be heading to the Eyrie. They have already started making arrangements and have sent a raven on ahead." Petyr finished as he began to clear the table.

"We'll miss the royal wedding?" Sansa questioned, turning to him with Rook curled in her arms.

Petyr smiled down at his work, a secret concealed within it, "Yes, but I believe that will be for the best. Do you really wish to attend the happy nuptials of your former betrothed?" He asked, his tone hinting at something hidden behind his words.

"No." Sansa replied, her thoughts remembering that she would never be granted a traditional wedding with all the trimmings and pomp as Margaery would be.

"It will be best if you aren't subjected to seeing such a grand festivity after our more homely vows, little pawn." Petyr quietly added, more to himself than her as he seemed to read her thoughts.

Sansa nodded, knowing it had not been meant for her ears, and cuddled the kit to her face, "Will I be able to take Rook?"

"I have already set someone to building him a proper cage." Petyr answered, turning to give the rabbit a loving pet, "He will be getting quite a bit bigger before he stops growing, if the ones I have seen around here are anything to judge by, and will be able to jump out of that box in another week."

Sansa nodded, relishing the warmth of her little friend before letting him return to his bed for a nap, "What do you wish to do this morning?"

"You have lunch with the Queen Regent." He recited, moving to the wardrobe to select his formal clothes for the day.

With a roll of her eyes, Sansa followed, "I asked what _you_ want to do, not what my schedule is. Besides, mid-day is a ways off."

Petyr looked back with a smirk, "It is almost half past the tenth hour."

Instantly, her eyes were wide, "W-what?"

He nodded in confirmation of what he said.

Sansa drew her hands roughly back through her hair, panic setting in. She had just over an hour to ready herself for lunch with Cersei; she still had to wash and change and do something with her messy hair. There simply wasn't enough time!

"What do you think?" Petyr asked, turning to her and holding one of his vests up, knowing she could use the distraction.

Sansa turned her focus to his question, pushing aside the other worries for the moment, and stepped forward to pick up the mahogany sleeve of the vest. After a while, she shook her head and turned to the wardrobe, boldly beginning to search through the other options as Petyr watched in amusement.

Settling on a rich, dark blue one, she turned back and held it up to his chest with an approving nod, "This one."

"And, why this exact one? Do you despise red?" He teased, knowing his plan to distract her anxious thoughts had succeeded.

Sansa fetched his customary mockingbird brooch and held it up against the blue, giving another satisfied nod, "I have a dress similar in color and…"

Petyr's brow perked, waiting for her to explain her reasoning further.

"I have a silver necklace I might be able to wear too, to match your ring and pin." She continued, hinting at her grand plot, "Eventually, I will have to get a sigil of your House to wear."

"And, again, why is that?" He asked, unable to take the suspense.

"It shows that we are a united front," She said, brushing off a wrinkle from the shoulder of the vest, which obviously hadn't seen daylight in a while, "That we are playing together and can't be divided; our solid alliance will only serve to confuse them further."

"Or present more of a challenge." Petyr warned, showing the flaw in her thinking. Her wrinkled brow led him to elaborate, "If they think we have an understanding, it might serve to make them work harder at dividing and conquering. You and I pose quite a threat if we are working together in their mind; they are hoping that you will keep your distance from me instead of seek out a truce. They are probably hoping that you will serve as a distraction for me, as well, in hopes that I will be kept from gaining more ground in the Game." His pulse stirred, knowing the Lannister's had more than enough to turn Sansa against him in an instant if they so desired.

He sighed, remembering his one-sided conversation with Rook, and knew then that he would have to tell her the truth about his part in her father's death before they could.

"Even that we can use to our advantage." Sansa shrugged, finding no failing in her plans, "If they think they have succeeded in separating us, we can play two fronts without them knowing – you from your established position and I in mine – and trap them in the middle. They will be the caged birds in the end." She smiled triumphantly, a small part of her waiting to hear his praise.

His nerves kept him from giving her the approval she desired and he only nodded, knowing much was being risked by her attending a lunch with Cersei, alone. What if that was when the former Queen told her of his part in her father's death?

"I need to get ready. Once I leave for the lunch, I will have Shae begin packing my things and sending them to your…" Sansa blushed, recalling his words from the previous night and instinctively tightening her robe around her, "Our room, that is."

"Would you like me to walk with you?" Petyr offered, laying the vest out and retrieving the rest of what he would need for the day.

Sansa shook her head, hoping for some time to clear her head, "N-no, I should be fine." Her soft steps started towards the door and she paused, "Where…I mean, what should I do after lunch?"

"Anything you like." Petyr grinned, offering her a taste of freedom.

Worrying her lower lip, she nodded, "A-alright, I guess…I guess I will collect the things I need for the compress later tonight and will come back once I have everything to set my things up. Will…will you be here?" She asked, knowing her face matched her hair.

Petyr sighed, wanting to erase the abandonment in her eyes, "I will be here whenever you get back. Like I always have been, like I always will be, little pawn." He added, holding her eye so she could see the truth in his words.

Sansa took a steady breath, "Alright then, I will see you this afternoon. Oh, and please do not have Shae put my things away; she doesn't like how I arrange things and prefers to do them her way and I can never find anything when she does." She said with a disdainful wrinkle of her nose.

"I will make sure she does as you wish." Petyr promised, hesitantly pulling his sleep shirt off and reaching for the fresh tunic. The cool wind from the window caused his muscles to constrict when it met with his bare skin.

Sansa started at him, wondering if the scar would ever become normal to her. A large part of her heart went out to him, as she had done when she saw Rook's foot, while the other questioned whether he would ever trust her enough to tell her the story behind his lesson, one she was sure had something to do with her mother.

Though she had nothing else to say she lingered, her youthful curiosity peaked knowing she had never seen a man without clothes on before.

"Is there anything else, Sansa?" Petyr asked with a knowing grin, waiting for her to leave so he could change without her prying eyes, "You never want to keep a former Queen waiting."

She blushed and scurried out with a quick shake of her head, knowing she needed to compose herself before she could even stand a chance at dodging Shae's intrusive questions.

XxX

An hour later Sansa was on her way to the gardens, her blue dress flowing behind her and the silver threats catching the light, making her appear ethereal. She smiled childishly as she looked down at her dress, her eyes catching the delicate silver necklace she wore and enjoying the feel of being an adult with a move of her own to make.

She slowed her steps and took time to collect herself before rounding the corner. It seemed as if the Lannisters wished to continue her lesson of unimportance because the only ones present in the small alcove were the Queen Regent and two of her handmaids.

"Good morrow, Lady Baelish. Or should I bid you good noon?" The words dripped off of Cersei's tongue like stinging venom.

Sansa kept her smile, finding herself comforted by her new title instead of ashamed as Cersei had hoped.

Along with the protection the new name brought, she was also finding reassurance that she wasn't alone any longer in this Game of theirs. Petyr had sworn to be her ally and partner for the rest of their days and, thus far, he had kept his end of the bargain. Even before their exchanged vows before the Heart Tree, he had been looking out for her and trying to get her home. How she could ever have doubted him was beyond her now.

"Good noon, my lady." Sansa replied in kind with a well-practiced curtsy, "I am very grateful for you invitation. I couldn't ask for a better way to spend my mid-day."

"Do, sit. Enjoy yourself. It is a lovely day." Cersei gestured to the empty place, which Sansa moved to take, "You must be tired, Lady Baelish." Her smile turned wicked as the maids rushed to ready their meal.

"Quite, my lady." Sansa lied with ease, needing no help in blushing. She sipped her tea, satisfied at how far she had come with her ability to lie. Her heart stuttered though, feeling guilty for her joy at the honorless skill – her father would have been ashamed of her sharpening ability to lie.

 _You will have to do evil to accomplish what it is you want_ , her thoughts recited Petyr's words and she took heed, fixing the cracks that had begun to appear in her carefully planned mask, _You aren't in Winterfell anymore_ , she reminded herself.

"That is all. You may leave us." Cersei excused the maids with a wave of her hand.

"I assume that your husband shared with you his upcoming trip to the Eyrie?" Cersei replied, her sharp eyes never once leaving the girl's face, "And that you will get a chance to accompany him?" She continued only after Sansa hesitantly nodded, "Men always do have loose lips after they have taken a woman to bed. It is a weakness in their sex, one they have yet to fully master and probably never will."

"Not a weakness, my lady, but a deep sense of trust between a lover and his beloved." Sansa replied with a sweet smile, feeling a strong need to defender her companion, "What we might perceive as faults, the gods see as chances to bond and learn to love from. Their designs are always purposeful and without malice."

Cersei rose a dark brow, silently sizing her up and knowing there was more to Sansa Stark than met the eye, "Indeed…indeed."

The cat and mouse, or, more correctly, mockingbird, Game continued on. Inwardly Sansa beamed, knowing she had Cersei played. Whenever the woman would say something particular biting, Sansa would allow her the small win before following it up with a simple compliment on her lord husband's character and wit, which warmed her even further to Petyr Baelish and frustrated Cersei to no end.

Cersei would think she had the girl bullied into a corner only for her to come back with something bright to say with her soft, innocent eyes. Never had she seen the Queen Regent so vexed than when she excused herself to return to her courtly duties.

Sansa leaned back in her chair, smirking triumphantly to herself, as the former Queen disappeared around the bend of the shrubs.

"L-Lady Baelish?" A timid voice inquired.

Sansa was instantly at attention, straightening her posture and smoothing her skirt. She turned slowly to see a shy maid approaching her, clutching a small leather bag tightly in her hands.

"Is…is she gone?" The girl's voice tremored with fear as her eyes darted around, looking for Cersei.

Sansa nodded, curious why the girl was being so secretive, and beckoned her forward, "You are safe. Do you have a message for me?" She asked, hope filling her that it might be someone from home.

"I…I was sent…sent to f-find you by Lady Margaery." She stuttered, "They wanted me to give this to you when you were alone." The small girl thrusted her hand forward, "There—there is a note…"

Sansa smiled a thanks and accepted the gift, "If you could let them know that I received it, I would much appreciate it."

The handmaiden gave a nod and scurried off just as she had come. With a small smile and a shake of her head, Sansa unrolled the tiny scroll.

 _Sansa, I apologize for not being there to give this to you in person; they are keeping me busy with wedding plans this week and I knew you couldn't ignore the Queen Regent's invitation for lunch. If I know you, though, you were strong and brave last night, nothing but a true Stark_ , Sansa smiled as she read, taking comfort in her friend's words, _In the pouch is one of Gran's herbal remedies. The first couple times will hurt and this tea should help with the pain as well as help you to relax. Take a teaspoon of it in your tea before going to bed, it works wonders and should last you a good bit of time. Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you, MT._

Sansa wrapped the drawstring tightly around the pouch and hid it within her dress pocket. If Margaery had taken such great lengths to sneak her the tea it must be kept just between the two of them. It was a woman's secret and, instead of blushing, Sansa's smile brightened, finally feeling like she now had a secret, harmless though it may be, which she could keep all to herself, just as everyone else did. She was a true player now.

With her spirit lifted, Sansa took her leave to walk the gardens a while. The sun was lower as she made her way back to the castle and to her new room, having collected a few wild herbs from the Godswood to make her compress.

Tentatively she shut the door closed behind her, trying not to disturb Petyr, who was bent intensely over his work. She stopped by the small couch, her hand reaching out and touching the elaborate mockingbird sown into the cloak Petyr had given her.

"Sansa, how long have you been standing there?" Came Petyr's surprised question.

"Not long." She answered, her eyes still admiring the work, "This is gorgeous; I didn't get a chance to look at it last night. I'm not sure I have ever gotten a more beautiful gift." She mused, remembering the locket Joffrey had given her and determining to throw it into the first mud puddle she came across outside of King's Landing.

"Not as beautiful as the gift you bestowed upon me yesterday."

Sansa could hear the smile in his voice and blushed. Her fingers stopped tracing the work and turned to him, "How was Rook while I was gone?"

"Quite well. He seems to be getting along well with his splint." He answered, turning back to his work while she took a turn of the room. Sansa stopped before his desk, her eyes lingering on a small box on his desk.

"I don't remember seeing that before." She asked, wondering what could be hidden inside.

Petyr gave a half-look up before smiling back down at his paper, "Because it wasn't there when you left."

"What is it?" She blurted, her youthfulness coming through.

"You said you wanted something of my House to show our alliance. So…" Petyr leaned back, his quill still in hand and the side of his palm stained with ink. His eyes lit up when he saw the awe etch across her face.

Sansa gently picked up the box and looked to Petyr, who nodded for her to continue.

"They first two are family heirlooms, the last one I had made as a wedding present for you this last week." Petyr explained as she pulled the blue ribbon, "I do hope you like them."

A small gasp escaped her lips as the light caught the vibrant silver of the small set. There was a silver mockingbird brooch, similar to the one Petyr wore but with added silver twists surrounding it to give it a more feminine touch, and a chained necklace with a pair of mockingbirds perched next to each other, ready to take on the rest of the world together. The last piece was a silver cuff with the mockingbird sigil etched onto the front.

The cuff was the first she took out and held up to fully catch the sun's glow, "Petyr…" She breathed, looking up as her eyes began to soften even further.

All the insignificance the Lannisters had heaped upon her the last week was snatched away as the magnitude of what she truly meant to Petyr filled her.

He nodded towards the bracelet, "Look on the inner part. That is the one I had made especially for you."

She turned it over and looked at the second, hidden sigil; her eyes released the tears that had begun to stir as she traced the outline of the direwolf.

"The direwolf hidden within the flock." Petyr inclined his head as she looked to him, "I want you to always remember your inner strength and the honorable line you come from as you play the Game. There are hard trials to come and you have to remember you who are so you can survive them."

"Petyr..." She tried again, words escaping her as her heart erupted with a thousand different emotions. Her fingers brushed over the other two pieces, unable to choose a favorite.

"May I?" He asked, gesturing to the necklace. Sansa could only nod and pull back her hair as he took the box from her.

With ease he removed the simple necklace she wore and replaced it with the new one. Sansa carefully touched the pair on the chain, truly feeling like his equal in that moment.

"There. We couldn't have you feeling abandoned by your ally, could we?" He whispered, recalling their talk of weakness the previous night and the worry of being left behind in her eyes that morning.

Sansa's fingers brushed the cuff, feeling the weight of his vows and the protection which covered her with these House pieces. Even though he was taking her under his wing, he had wanted to make sure she remembered that she still was and always would be Sansa Stark and that it wasn't something to be ashamed of.

The tears warmly traced her face at the thoughtfulness and sincerity of the gifts. Not only did he take her strategies seriously, but he was looking out for her heart and making sure she didn't have to sacrifice everything for the Game, something no one else in the Red Keep had ever done before.

"I don't know what to say." She whispered, turning to face him. His face was close to hers and she could feel the heat of his body against her side. Petyr's eyes flickered to her lips for a brief moment before meeting her eyes.

"I—I found the h-herbs for the compress." Sansa stuttered, her own eyes stealing a glance at his mouth. The kiss from the night before consumed her and her pulse raced, longing to feel wanted again.

Petyr pulled back with a softness to his face, "I look forward to receiving the Northern remedy; hopefully it will work."

Her heart fell when he moved away and retook his place at the desk, her head turned quickly to follow him.

Her nose wrinkled, wondering if he was playing a small Game just between the two of them. If so, and with his promise to wait for her to be ready already made, it was her turn to make a move.

Pushing aside her uneasiness, Sansa fitted the cuff over her left wrist, "My mother always said that good husbands will greet their wives with a kiss in the morning and in the evening, and one after a long time apart. That is how you can tell they are fond of you instead of just using you for heirs and games."

Petyr rose a brow and looked up to her, curious where she was going and if she was just making it up as she went.

"You, Lord Baelish," She smirked, enjoying the playfulness of the moment as she picked up the brooch and held it tenderly in her hands, "Do not know how to play the game of courtship well."

"I knew women liked sparkly trinkets, surly I gain ground for that, Lady Baelish?" He inquired, turning back to his work and keeping her guessing.

She smiled, already knowing his Game and enjoying the battle of wits, "Indeed, we do." Sansa gave a firm nod before turning towards the bedroom, leaving him without a proper reply, "I am going to begin readying my things. Any suggestions on what I should pack for the Eyrie and what I can leave here?"

"Pack as if you were going home, for it will surely be snowing when we arrive." Petyr shook his head, his face youthful and light.

Sansa nodded and opened the door to their room, her nerves tempered. Her trunks and boxes were stacked neatly in the corner and she set to work separating everything; the things she would take went into one of the now empty trunks and the things she would leave went onto the bed.

Just as she was finishing, Petyr's footsteps sounded on the creaking floorboards, "You are allowed to take up some of the drawers and wardrobe if you like, or do I need to get another of each to fit your needs?"

Sansa had just retrieved the tea from her pocket and hurried to sneak it into a corner of her trunk, "Thank you, I was going through my things first to determine what I will take." She replied, setting her small jewelry box atop the pouch.

Petyr leaned against the frame, watching the grace of her movements. His smiled perked whenever he caught sight of her necklace or cuff, which claimed her as his.

Wishing to help, he moved to the wardrobe and began pulling out the empty hangers for her.

"There. Perfect." Her voice bounced around the room.

Petyr slowly turned around, wondering what she was talking about. Sansa stood before the mirror, having replaced the necklace with a shimmering gossamer scarf and pinning the small mockingbird brooch onto its center.

She turned back to him, seeking his approval.

"You are truly my better reflection." Petyr said, enjoying how much she was letting him in.

"Indeed." Sansa rose her head, a playful touch on her lips, and offered him her hand, "Come, stand beside me so we can see if we properly match."

Petyr did as he was ordered, standing slightly behind her like he would for a portrait.

"We complement each other quite well, if only my hair was darker." Sansa sighed, lifting up one of the braids and examining it.

"Your hair is the perfect color; it will remind them that you are a Stark and that we make up a pair that cannot be beat." Petyr replied, his eyes looking down and admiring her.

Her eyes wandered back to the mirror, catching a glimpse of his attention upon her, "It is almost like the gods pair us off to continue their Game; maybe we will be the ones to take them down finally." The treason escaped her soft lips, as sweet as honey.

"Maybe." Petyr whispered, enjoying the beauty of his young bride.

She blushed and turned away, "S-should we start to dinner?"

"Shall I escort you, my lady?" Petyr asked, offering his arm. Sansa took it, finding comfort in their budding alliance and stealing a couple glances here and there, seeing how having a partner in the Game was invigorating the seasoned player and bringing out the prime of his years instead of the weariness.

 _I can very easily learn to respect a man such as he_ , Sansa thought with a soft touch to her lips, knowing her words to Cersei hadn't all been a lie this day, _Very easily indeed._

XxX

Petyr and Sansa found a comfortable routine over the next week, which went by rather quickly. She would be given time to herself for a morning walk while he worked after their breakfast, they would join again at the mid-day meal and spend the afternoon in a comfortable silence or light chatter before attending supper and sharing in an after dinner walk where they would exchange questions, getting to know the other further.

Her confidence grew with each day as the Lannisters became more confused by their budding alliance; with each biting comment they made, the newlyweds were always ready with an even sweeter reply. They had each other's back and it was driving the court mad, especially Joffrey since none of his former torments worked and because Petyr never left her alone when they were at court which took away any chance the king had at cornering her.

The only thing she missed the past week was her alone time with Margaery. With all the plans needing finalization for the wedding and other duties of the court, the pair barley saw each other, and when Sansa did get to see her at meals Petyr was always there and she couldn't pass along her thanks for the tea, though she had yet to put it to use.

Her blush colored her face as she moved Rook to his new cage. They had been sharing their marriage bed for a week now and, though they started off in their respected corners each night, Sansa found herself waking up curled to his side each morning. Thankfully Petyr had been asleep each time and she had sheepishly returned to her side in the dawn's light.

Their alliance was fortified beyond anything Sansa could have ever expected, she would even consider it more of a friendship now, but she still didn't feel ready to fulfill all her duties as a wife quite yet. Though, she was finding herself enjoying the little sweet nothings of marriage.

Her childish smile touched her lips when she thought of the advice she had given him their first day as husband and wife and how he had followed through on it. He didn't kiss her on the lips as he had their wedding night, but he would dotingly bestow a chaste kiss on her cheek each morning and evening when he bid her whichever it was, usually with the title "Lady Baelish" or "little pawn" attached. She had gotten use to the tickle of his whiskers against her smooth skin and couldn't help but smile whenever he gifted her one now; it was a small gesture she looked forward to because it reminded her that she wasn't alone after all. Petyr was doing much to warrant her trust and following through on his promise to earn it, she couldn't have asked for more in a companion than a man who kept his word.

As Sansa petted the little kit, she found herself considering what it might feel like to enter into her womanhood, leaving behind her maidenhood forever. Her innocent curiosity began to consider how it all went about. Her intimate thoughts flushed her face, feeling guilty for contemplating something so private and what she had come to see as improper for young ladies.

 _But you aren't a maiden anymore, you are a wife,_ her nose wrinkled and she shrugged, _well, you_ are _still a maiden but you shouldn't be…_

"Is Rook settled?" Came a voice, making her feel caught.

Sansa rested her hand against her racing heart, trying to collect herself and hoping she hadn't spoken allowed, "Quite. My trunk has already been sent to the ship but I wanted to take Rook with me. I don't trust anyone to tend to him but us."

Petyr nodded, a small smile on his lips as she closed the door of the cage. Sansa reached next for a locket off to the side and began moving towards the mirror to put it on.

His brow furrowed, "Is that the one Joffrey gave to you?"

"Yes." Sansa smiled at her reflection, her hands resting against her chest and framing the small golden piece against her journeying outfit.

"Another one of your plans, I assume?" He crossed his arms, forcing his tone to stay even, as he moved to stand beside her. Jealousy simmered within him and he couldn't find the control he needed to squelch it completely.

Her eyes darted up, meeting those of his reflection's, "Yes." She repeated coyly.

"Am I allowed to know what you have planned?" Petyr pressed, looking to her from the corner of his eye.

"Do you tell me all of your plans?" Sansa countered, fixing a stray hair and straightening her collar.

Petyr smirked, knowing he would not get an answer, and inclined his head, "No."

Her lips pursed playfully and she took one last look at her reflection before she turned to the small drawing table and began drafting a short good bye, including a thank you for the tea, to Margaery.

"Another plan I am not privileged to?" Petyr asked, keeping to his place in the center of the room as he watched her move. He shifted from foot to foot, unnerved by her secrets but not willing to show it.

Sansa began heating the wax over the candle and sealing the letter, not saying a word.

Petyr just shook his head and took up Rook's cage, "There is a footman at the door, he can deliver the letter for you."

She tucked the note into her sleeve and gave an appreciative nod, "Thank you, Petyr." He returned her gesture and started out, "Petyr?"

He stopped at her beckoning and turned to her.

"Thank you, also, for trusting me." Her face flushed and her eyes began to lower, but she stopped them and forced herself to look at him, knowing he deserved to see that she meant every word, "I…I couldn't have asked for a better a-ally." She finished, holding her chin up to show her strength.

His lips softened and he nodded, "Nor I, I assure you. Shall we, little pawn?" His eyes shone as she grinned when the doting term left his lips.

She stepped up and took his arm, ready to face whatever the day held. One the letter was delivered to the appointed messenger, the pair continued out to the warm, summer day.

"I am afraid we will have to walk." Petyr explained, starting them down the path to the ships, "They ordered complete discretion surrounding our departure."

Sansa nodded, used to their demeaning Games, "It is a great day for a stroll." She replied positively.

Within the half hour, Petyr was offering his hand to help Sansa up the plank of the ship. He followed next, handing her the kit so that he could board with ease. Petyr took hold of one of the riggings and swung himself onto the deck effortlessly, appearing like the young man he once was. Sansa's eyes flickered with mirth, her lips giving away her pleasure; not only had she found a companion with a grand wit but she was also staring to uncover a unique handsomeness hidden beneath his usual calculating manner.

"This way." Petyr placed his hand protectively on her lower back, leading her to the decks below and away from the lustful eyes of those on board. His narrowed eyes warned the men to return to their work and they were quick to follow the unspoken order.

"You can have your pick." Petyr explained as he followed her down the stairs. Sansa covered her eyes, trying to adjust them from the sun to the lower deck's shade.

Her eyes wandered the small room once they had. There was a smudged window looking out over the cool sea where seagulls played out in the distance and two small beds with a table in the middle and a desk to the side. It was nothing grand but it would be comfortable quarters for the voyage.

"I had them carve into the desk here, so Rook's cage could fit securely." Petyr explained, taking the kit from her and placing him in his designated place. He retrieved the dangling leather strap from the side and moved it over the cage to be secured on the other side, "Now he won't have to worry if we hit any rough waters."

Sansa smiled, moving to one of the beds and sitting down, "Thank you, Petyr." She blushed and turned her eyes to the window, feeling foolish for how often she had thanked him today.

"You are welcome, my lady." He replied with an incline of his head, his hands resting together behind his back in his typical stance.

"Why are there two beds instead of one?" She questioned, doing her best to keep her voice steady. Though she gave her best attempt, her face gave her away.

"To takes up less space." Petyr answered, moving to look at the map on the table.

Sansa nodded, swinging her feet off her bed and letting herself get lost in her thoughts. The feeling was hard to explain to her reason, but it was almost as if the Lannisters were winning by separating them with the two beds. Her face grimaced, not wanting them to gain any more ground, imaginary or not.

"Am I allowed to know why you wore the Lannister locket yet?" Petyr quietly asked, his eyes still busy on the map.

Her fingers toying with the piece he spoke of, "I told Cersei that I would wear it for the length of the journey; to remember that my heart lies in King's Landing. I had to wear it to the ship in case she saw me at any point of our departure."

Petyr darted his eyes up to study her thought process.

She smiled, gazing out at the wide sea as she felt the boat push off the dock. Her hand tightened around the expensive trinket and she ripped the delicate chain from her neck in one fluid motion, holding it out before her triumphantly. Her heart pounded as the adrenaline surged through her veins; this was the final claim they had over her.

Standing, she made her way to the large window and unlatched one of the panes. Petyr watched in amazement as she held out the once treasured piece over the smooth water, which went down for at least a league, and released it from her hand without a second care, sending the locket plummeting to the bottom of the ocean.

She leaned against the sill, watching it disappear, "Petyr…" Sansa whispered the name tenderly, sighing contently and looking out to the sea-foaming waves, "Can't we just go and never come back?"

Petyr felt himself visibly tense at her question; he hadn't considered that move, not after all he had gone through to gain his standing at court.

His eyes wandered to the beauty, illuminated by the high sun; she looked like a masterpiece of the gods.

Could he give up everything – his earned titles, land, and power, his money and the ground he worked so hard to achieve in the Game – and be content by a life with only Sansa by his side?

 _Yes_ , his innermost thoughts said without needing to consider the question. He tapped the quill in his hand against the table, finding himself daunted by the revelation. It had been the thing that had scared him the night the Lannisters' had reconsidered his offer; this girl, who stood before him, could be the downfall of everything he had spent his life striving for.

"But, that is not how the Game is played." Sansa answered herself, her lips pursed and face defeated, "I am tired and think I will try to rest for a bit." She said, moving to the bed.

Petyr nodded, "I will wake you when our meal is brought."

Sansa spent the rest of the morning turned to the wall, her thoughts playing over everything that had happened that last month; news of her mother and brother's death, her betrothal and rushed marriage, her new status as a wife and, now, her journey to the Eyrie.

She pretended to be asleep when the meal was brought down and joined Petyr for a quiet lunch before browsing the books he had brought for the journey and playing with Rook for the remainder of her afternoon. Petyr left after their late dinner, giving her time to ready for bed in privacy and wash herself in the small basin.

Sansa was curled up in her small bed, her body facing the inner part of the room, when Petyr returned. He sighed, running his fingers back through his windswept hair and enjoying what little warmth the room provided.

Moonlight streamed in through the window as Petyr pulled out his night cloths and removed his formal ones, having gotten used to an additional person in the room when he changed.

Sansa watched as the light caught his scar. The compresses had seemed to help, she had seen for herself the strength return to the once pained master and the ease within which he moved about now, but each night she also saw him wince as he pulled the tunic over his head. Things were better, but not perfect.

She knew Petyr won't wake her to make up a patch for tonight but she had thought ahead and mixed up one before turning in, knowing he had come to appreciate the relief it brought.

"Petyr?" She called. Sansa saw him startle, having expected her to be asleep, "I made up a compress. It's in the jar, there."

"Thank you, little pawn." She could just make out his smile in the nightlight, "Now, go to sleep. It's late."

Sansa snuggled back into her blankets, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy mattress. Her eyes still lingered on his movements as he rubbed the salve into the old wound and moved to his bed.

"Good night." She whispered, tucking her hands under her chin and trying to ignore the chill of the room. Her thoughts turned as she remembered he hadn't given her his routine kiss good night and she found herself missing the gesture. She swiftly chided herself for becoming so dependent on something so silly and naïve.

During their afternoons and evening walks, she had truly come to see Petyr as her companion and protector. He didn't control her every move and she could trust he would be there if ever she stumbled, he also served as a constant remind to the men around her that she was not to be messed with and no one challenged him on it.

Apart from the benefits she gained as Petyr's wife, she found comfort in his presence, knowing she wasn't alone any longer, and pleasure in his entertaining wit and his fondness for her. She could feel her growing attachment to him and that concerned her; both because she had known better than to fully trust a man of King's Landing and because she was worried that he could be taken away from her like everyone else she had ever cared for. These thoughts battled within her, pushed off sleep.

"Sleep well." He replied, moving to his own bed.

Petyr lay awake, his eyes gazing at the colorless ceiling. He had gotten used to having her as a bed companion and the reassurance her presence offered; too quickly he had come to depend on her shifting to his side in the middle of the night before he could go to sleep himself. He wasn't sure he could fall asleep on his own after establishing such a routine now.

 _It's going to be a long night_ , he whispered to himself, believing he only thought the words, as he stiffening a sigh and rubbed his eyes, _I don't even want to think about what it will be like when we are forced to stay in separate rooms at the Eyrie._

His ears perked when he heard rustling, "Settle down Rook." He ordered gently, thinking it had just been the kit waking up for the night.

"It…it wasn't R-Rook." Came the timid answer.

Petyr shot up at the unexpected voice by his side, his back pressing against the wall and his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger he kept by his bed. His hand relaxed when he saw Sansa standing next to his bed, wrapped protectively in her blanket and swaying back and forth with the ship.

Sansa worried her lower lip, knowing that she could only get away with what she was doing in the safety of the shadows. In the emptiness of the night, her fears of losing her one true companion had won out and she couldn't settle the fears on her own, she needed the sanctuary they had created.

"I…I don't want to be alone." She risked saying, her heart unreserved in the presence of her husband. Her eyes looked away as they filled with remorse, knowing she was giving up the first piece of her most intimate heart, one which could never be returned, in the night's stupor.

Petyr's shoulders dropped, having never expected her to admit the fear he knew her to have, especially after her harsh words in the woods.

"Oh, a-alright." Petyr hurried to say, knowing it was his turn to respond. He moved to the foot of the bed, not sure how to make it work.

Sansa didn't need to be told anything more and began crawling across the small bed to the inner side, refusing to meet his eye. She was humiliated by her childish nature, but she needed the security of her companion more that night. Petyr nodded, accepting her need to be protected and took to the outer part.

Sansa scrunched against the wall as Petyr tried to figure out the boundaries. He ended up laying half off the bed with his arm forming a makeshift pillow so she could have the real one.

"You can move over, if you like." She whispered, remembering the words he had mumbled aloud about not being able to sleep without her close by. Apparently he had known about her sneaking onto his side in the middle of the night all along, which made it useless to try and keep up the façade now. In the safety of their sanctuary they were free to admit their mutual need for the other's companionship, the shame of the morning could take care of itself.

Petyr looked to her face for confirmation before moving and stretching out his arm. Nervously, she curled up to his side, her hand uneasily coming to rest on his chest and hanging over his side so as to make sure he didn't fall off.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, burying her flushed face into the crook of his arm.

Petyr smiled, resting his chin atop her head and bringing his other arm up to hold her securely, "There is no need to be. Ever. I will always be here for you whenever you need me." He whispered, moving to press his lips gently against her forehead in a drawn out kiss, "Always."

Sansa smiled, inhaling the familiar scent of his work and the sweet herbs of her compress. With her good night kiss given, she knew she could now fall asleep peacefully. Petyr listened to her even breathing, savoring the feel of her in his arms, and found himself following her lead and joining in the peacefulness of sleep.

XxX


	5. The Mockingbird's Heart

XxX

Sansa was the first to wake, since she wasn't as used to the jostling of the boat as Petyr, who was still fast asleep. Carefully she leaned her head back to study him as he dozed.

Never had she seen him more at peace than in that moment. His face was smoothed of any worried crease, his mouth opened slightly as he breathed, his chest raising and failing in rhythm. The sunlight that trickled in caught the rich, raven color of his hair and Sansa's eyes wandered to where it met the snowy white which graced his temples. Though she knew he had seen long years, which the streaks on the side of his head could attest to, she wouldn't have guessed he was much older than Jon when she saw his slumbering face.

His eyelids tensed, his thoughts captured by a dark dream, and an urge overcame her to reach up and smooth away the imperfection, wishing to restore his previous solace.

"Shhh, shhh, it's alright." She whispered, her hand timidly reached up and caressed his face. A quiet sigh escaped his lips and he leaned into her touch. A smile pulled at her lips, feeling the fulfillment of bringing comfort to someone in pain, someone who would be all alone in life if it weren't for the exception of her presence.

Her eyes wandered to the thin tunic he wore, the scar's outline just visible, _You cut yourself off before they could wound you again. You've been alone so long, it must be odd to have me around now,_ She thought, wondering what his dream was, _The only thing you want but will never be able to have._

Sansa settled her head on his chest, closing her eyes and listening to his steady heartbeat. She heard the difference in pace when he began to stir, his body shifting to stretch his tired muscles. Instantly she felt him settle, thinking she was still fast asleep.

"Good morrow." Sansa greeted, wanting him to know she was awake.

Petyr hesitantly brought his arm up to rest carefully on her waist, which was covered by the old blanket, "Good morrow. Did you sleep well?" He settled back against the pillow, closing his eyes once more.

"Yes." Sansa nodded, brushing her hair from her face, "Petyr?"

He looked to her, granting her his full attention.

"I…I overheard what you said last night, about being separated when we are at the E-Eyrie." She took time to ease her voice before continuing, "Why will we have to be?" She chanced, knowing she had nothing left to lose after last night.

Petyr sighed, boldly reaching up and running his fingers through her tresses, "Because it will be safer for you that way. It is the one thing the Lannisters and I could agree on. Your Aunt is an…interesting woman. We knew each other as children and she will not take kindly to our match."

"Oh, alright." Sansa mumbled, knowing her Aunt most likely wouldn't take the news that she had married lower than her House well, not that Sansa could care either way but she knew that others took family status as the utmost of importance. She had found a worthy ally and that is all she cared about, "Can't I just go by another name and still be your wife?"

"That is the plan." Petyr answered, "I was thinking you could go by Alayne, Alayne Stone."

Sansa wrinkled her nose, considering the last name, "Won't she think I am your natural daughter instead of your wife with that name?"

"Yes." Petyr acknowledged begrudgingly, his lip tempted to sneer.

She sat up rigidly, looking at him like an indignant child, "Why can't I use a different last name and still be introduced as your wife?" Her face colored, thinking of two possible reasons for his plan: either he was ashamed to have her as a wife outside of the court, which would support why they had to elope, or he was planning to win Aunt Lysa's support by intimate means.

"It will just be safest for you if you appear as my ward." Petyr met her eyes, asking her to trust him.

Sansa signed and reluctantly nodded, "Will I have to dye my hair?" She asked, fidgeting with one of the small braids in her hair, "Surely she will be able to tell I share my mother's blood by the color of it."

Petyr reached up and lovingly tucked a strand back, "I would never ask that of you, you should know that."

"But that would be for the best, wouldn't it?" She quipped, "It would make your plan more believable."

He only sighed and took her hand protectively in his to give it a kiss, never had he wished for her to lose her auburn crown.

"Did you bring dye?" She continued, her tone distant and bordering annoyed.

"In the desk drawer." He answered reluctantly, his fingers ruffling his hair. Sansa tersely pulled her blanket around her and maneuvered off the foot of the bed, not appreciating his passive aggressive move and feeling used and left out in the cold.

"You don't need to dye it until we are closer to port." Petyr pointed out, sitting up and following her trek with his eyes.

She pulled out the small jar and held it up to the light, making sure the blanket was secured modestly around her so he couldn't see her slip, "Why wait? You have the plan already made and we should start getting used to playing our assigned parts." She snapped impetuously, regretting not trusting her first instinct and keeping him at arm's length so as not to give her only advantages away. Her bare feet shuffled across the cold floor and she fell onto her bed, turning away from him in a huff, "We might as well get used to being separated and keep to our respected areas." She mumbled, tears beginning to bud in her eyes. Her anger pulled at her, telling her that she was foolish to allowed herself to become so attached to someone who was no more than an ally to her and for making their understanding so grey. He wasn't her friend; she shouldn't have tried casting him as such.

"I'm not the only one that makes plans on my own, little pawn." Petyr reminded gently, his voice carrying across the empty room to her as he remained on the bed, giving her space. He saw her shoulders hunch, caving in on herself in search of protection, "Sansa, if you only knew how Lysa was—"

"I won't have anyone else at the Eyrie." She moaned to herself, acting her young age and allowing the fear of abandonment to overshadow her anger. Her face buried into her pillow, knowing she wouldn't be able to receive his routine gestures of comfort if they were acting as father and daughter and cursing herself for becoming so dependent upon the small acts. Her part was easy enough to play when she had the sanctuary of their room to come home to in King's Landing, where she could rest before her next performance; what would be her escape in the Eyrie?

"It's not as if we will be truly separated. You will just have a room to yourself." Petyr explained, having thought she would appreciate the news, "You can still come sit with me in the afternoons and we can go for our walks after dinner and—"

"I don't want to sleep on my own! Bad things happen at night." She whimpered, having lost control of her mask and given herself fully over to her emotions.

Petyr startled, unable to recall any night fits from her. Concern captured him, questioning what he had overlooked; he couldn't protect her if he didn't know what attacks she faced.

"I don't get them when I am with you…" She confessed, her voice quiet and broken. Her grip tightened on the blanket, knowing she could never be a true player. She was too weak and dependent on others; she would never be anything more than a pawn in the Games.

"You don't get what?" Petyr asked, pushing up from the bed and cautiously making his way to hers. He could guess what she was going to say but he wanted her to face the fear head on.

"The nightmares." She answered, her voice timid as she curled further within herself.

Sansa had been subject to them, as was natural, since her father's death, but they had grown worse since the news of her mother and brother reached King's Landing; the thought of their cold, lifeless bodies ghosted around her and she grew nauseous every time she thought of the desecration to their bodies, which had once held such love and joy.

She had begun taking something before bed but she had forgotten the night of her wedding, which had turned out to be the first real night she had slept completely through without the assistance of a potion. Sansa had stopped taking the opium after that; now she would have to start it back up again.

Terror filled her as she felt the dark thoughts approaching the outskirts of her mindF, foreshadowing the bloody death of those she had come to care for, like Margaery and Petyr. They now lay besides the phantoms of her dead family as the Lannisters stood above them, gloating and jeering.

Her tears burned at her eyes, her nails digging into her palms and her eyes sealed shut, desperately trying to escape the images.

"Sansa." She tensed at the caring voice, pulling away from the hand that reached out for her shoulder.

 _Everyone will be taken away, the only ones that stay aren't finished with you yet and they will leave in the end too_ , she thought cynically, the tears trailing her face and speaking of the pain she had suffered over her short life.

"Just because we are in different rooms, does not mean I have abandoned you." He comforted, again bringing his hand out to rub small circles in her back and wanting her to know he valued the trust she showed in him the previous night.

She settled at his touch and he leaned back against the wall, wishing to see her face, "I did not mean to make you feel left out; I only wished to protect you and this is the only way I can see how."

"Why won't she take kindly to our match?" She demanded, her breathing easing and reason returning. Petyr smiled, knowing she must be feeling better if her questions were beginning.

Sansa turned over, her face blotchy, "You said you would never lie to me." She warned.

"That I did." He nodded, looking to the window so he could choose his words carefully, "Lysa and I…" Petyr cleared his throat, his jaw grinding as his face warmed like a child's, "Lysa and I…"

Sansa burst into a mad fit of laughter, wiping at her blurry eyes and finding a distraction in his discomfort, "You were childhood sweethearts."

"Not per se. But…" He inclined his head, trying to find a way to make sense of what had happened, "She had feelings for me which I did not return. And…and in my youth I stupidly took advantage of them because I couldn't have the one I wanted."

Sansa thought for a second and turned with wide eyes to him as she hurried to sit up, "My mother."

"I'm not proud of how I acted." He continued, fidgeting with his cuff, "What I did…"

"How many times have you done what you did?" She asked bluntly, her curiosity peeking through and removing her previous fear. Her eyes were brazen, feeling like she had a right to ask, and she jutted her chin out, "Not just with Aunt Lysa, but others."

"Enough in my youth, when I was still trying to distract myself from..." He trailed off, unable to meet her eye, "But I grew up and the Game overshadowed any other desires I might have had. I've never been normal by traditional standards; unlike others that play, I can choose between power and women. I chose the former, as you could guess." Petyr ventured to meet her eye, "And, as I told you the night of our wedding, I was very selective and careful because I did not wish to father children I could not claim. You will never have to worry about having to raise a bastard; I wouldn't put you through that."

Sansa nodded, accepting his words, "Will you use…alternative means to persuade her then, if I am to be your daughter?" Her face colored but she continued to hold her head high.

"No, that is another thing I already told you I would not do and I will keep my word concerning that." Petyr replied, trying not to take offense at her words, "I will only present you as my ward to guard you against her jealousy, which can be volatile and unyielding when stirred. You must believe me that if there was another way, any at all, to protect you, I would have chosen it instead."

Again, she nodded. Her eyes lingered on his face as he turned away, wondering if he was considering asking her whether she was ready to consume their marriage or not. But the inquiry never came.

Instead, Petyr stood and moved to the table. Sansa dangled her feet of the bed, wondering how he could be so patient with her.

"We have at least another four days journey before reaching land." Petyr mulled aloud, his thoughts turning as he leaned over the map.

"Petyr…" Sansa tilted her head, studying his willowy form, "Have you ever wanted children?" She asked at random.

"Every man wants an heir to carry on his name." Came a practiced response, his eyes still studying the map.

"I didn't ask what other men want, I asked what _you_ want." She pressed, going toe to toe with his stubbornness.

He sighed, his head looking up and lingering on the wall before him, "It's a hard question, Sansa."

"What's so hard about it?" She pushed, standing up and making her way towards him with crossed arms, "I would think a simple yes or no would suffice."

Finally, he turned to look at her, "Because, if things had gone the way I had wanted them to in my youth, you would be my child and I would be your father. That is why it is not such an easy question, little one." He answered honestly, his heart open for her eyes alone.

Sansa's footsteps halted, unable to move further; she hadn't thought of it like that before.

"I—I've always wanted children." She hurried to change the topic, moving to Rook's cage to check on him.

Petyr's eyes remained longingly on her form; Sansa having forgotten to collect her blanket before moving. Even in the simple slip, her hair tousled from sleep and no jewelry to be found, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.

He was quick to advert his eyes when she turned back to him, the kit cradled in her arms, "I always hoped they would carry on my eyes, though I hope they have the darker Stark hair."

 _They most likely will since my hair is dark too_ , Petyr thought, not wanting to discourage her with the prospect of having his children.

"What do you hope they will look like?" Sansa asked lightly, feeling the calls of motherhood as Rook snuggled into her arm.

"I don't have a preference." Petyr replied offhanded, not wanting his thoughts to linger on such happiness. Here he was, Sansa standing by his side as his wife and considering what their children might look like. Not only did he feel like he didn't deserve such pleasure, but he also worried such joy couldn't last long in the Game.

Sansa clicked her tongue, finding him as fun as Shae when they were guessing the stories of the ships leaving King's Landing, "Fine." She replied, moving past him and back to the bed they had shared.

A small, satisfied grin touched his mouth, appreciating her companionship and knowing he couldn't not give into the small game that she wanted to play with him, "If they share in your beauty, I could ask for nothing more."

"You don't prefer a boy to a girl?" She asked, carefully approaching the subject again.

"Either would suffice." Petyr replied, leaning back and letting his eyes move from the map to the wall as he considered the daydream of a small girl with her mother's beauty and a boy who only shared the best parts of his father and the handsomeness of the Stark line.

"Will you use them as pieces in our Game?" She asked undauntedly, her voice the only sound in the room apart from the waves against the boat.

The dream came crashing around him and he remembered her desire yesterday to leave the Game behind them.

"I…" Petyr started, unable to construct a reply while his inner battle of wit and emotion raged on. A knock put an end to their conversation and Petyr beckoned for the knocker to come in, grateful for the interruption, once Sansa had concealed herself beneath the blanket.

"Breakfast, sir." The cabin boy said, placing the food on the table and making sure to keep his eyes away from the shipowner's wife, having been warned extensively by the crewmen to do so.

"Thank you." Petyr said, excusing him with a nod. Sansa moved to join him for the simple meal and they ate in comfortable silence.

XxX

The rest of the journey continued along the lines of the first day. Sansa began exploring the ship and taking a turn of the deck each morning, Petyr protectively by her side, and they would spend the afternoon quietly in the cabin, continuing their game of questions and getting to know the other. Petyr actually began considering what they would do to occupy their time once they were out of questions to ask.

Sansa always had concerns about giving him her heart, but what she uncovered during those days was that she already held the totality of his. She wasn't ready yet, but she knew when the time came and she gifted what remained of her heart to her husband it would just be in exchange for his, solidifying the friendship and alliance they had worked to build.

On the last leg of their journey, Sansa set to dyeing her hair. Petyr was busy with finalizing plans on deck and went unaware of her venture. After she had finished, she nervously picked up the mirror she had stowed away in her trunk and moved to the window to see her work.

A small smile touched her lips, her finger questioningly touching the darkened locks.

Her ears perked when she heard the door and Petyr's footsteps, "We should be coming into port by the noon hour—"

She kept her face turned away from him, knowing her black locks now hung loosely over her back, appearing even darker against the white shift she wore

Petyr's eyes grew, his mouth agape, mesmerized by the halo the sun cast against her tresses and the picture she was standing before the window.

"W-what…what do you think?" Sansa asked, looking to him over her shoulder. Her teeth worried her lower lip, awaiting his response. She colored when she saw his admiring expression.

"You look stunning." Petyr unconsciously took a step forward, awestruck by her beauty.

Sansa looked away, not sure how to react to such attention, "S-so we will be in port soon?"

"Y-yes." Petyr answered, clearing his thoughts with a shake of his head.

"Very well, I will ready my riding things." She said, moving to her trunk. Kneeling beside it, she gently opened her small jewelry box, "Am I…I mean, is it alright to wear my brooch?" She requested permission, her eyes softly looking up to him.

Petyr nodded, "I see no harm in it. It is my own symbol and will do nothing but show that I have acknowledged you as my own and taken you under my care, which was part of the original thought behind the gift."

Sansa nodded, letting her hair veil her flushed face, "I thought it best to ask."

"You are quite capable of making your own small moves, trust your instinct – it has gotten you this far. I will help you with the larger ones." Petyr advised, moving to ready his own things.

She sat back on her heels, watching him and savoring the last moment they might have alone together for a while.

"Are you ready for our next move, little pawn?" Petyr asked with a grin, feeling her eyes on him.

She sighed and pulled her dark vest over her shift, pinning her sigil above her heart, "Another step closer to winning and freedom."

XxX

The journey to the Eyrie was quiet. Sansa held protectively to Rook's cage as they followed the path to the menacing tower. She grew nervous as the castle grew closer.

"You needn't worry yourself so." Petyr leaned over and whispered in her ear, reaching out and giving her hand a light squeeze before collecting himself.

She nodded but her eyes only grew more when she saw the notched bows aimed at them as they entered the narrow pathway.

"Take heart, little one." He ordered, coming to a stop before the final guards.

"Who goes there?"

"Petyr Baelish and his ward, Alayne Stone." He answered. The gates were drawn up and the pair entered the old tower. Without escort, they made their way towards the throne room. Sansa pulled her cloak tighter around her, feeling the bite of the drafty castle and hoping Rook was warm enough.

"Are you ready, Alayne?" Petyr asked, his hand resting on the door.

Sansa took an uneasy breath and nodded. Petyr returned the gesture and pushed open the door, revealing the large, sparse room. It was nothing like the one in King's Landing, but the throne was just as intricate and spoke of the power behind it.

"Uncle Petyr!" A small, innocent voice called out. Footsteps echoed down the grand staircase and a small boy threw himself into Petyr's arms.

Sansa's eyes tenderly looked on, noticing how Petyr doted on the small, sickly boy and presented him with a small token.

 _He would make a great father_ , she thought, coloring at the idea.

"Welcome back, Lord Baelish. I do hope you will stay with us for a while longer this time."

Sansa looked up to see a very stout woman making her way down the stairs, her eyes beady and her face permanently blotchy.

 _Aunt Lysa_ , she thought, noting the thick, auburn hair of all Tullys.

"I see you have brought a companion with you." Sansa tried her best not to wince under the woman's scrutinizing glare.

 _So this is what Petyr was talking about_ , she thought, agreeing with him as she tried her best to appear unfazed by her aunt's resentful demeanor and jealous eyes, _I thought coming as his ward would make her more agreeable not less._

"Yes, this is my charge, Alayne." Petyr introduced, chancing a touch of her back to let her know she wasn't alone.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Alayne." Lysa's thin lips turned up in a smirk, knowing there was no need for titles where bastards were concerned.

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Arryn." Sansa replied, bowering her head and giving a poor curtsey to keep up appearances.

"Robin, why don't you show Alayne to one of the guest rooms in the east quarter? I have some things I would like to discuss with Uncle Petyr." Lysa said through clenched teeth, her narrowed eyes never once leaving Sansa's pretty face.

Robin hopped forward and took her hand, "Come along!" He quipped lightly, a crooked smile on his face.

Sansa looked over her shoulder as Robin led her towards the door. Petyr stood with his hands behind his back looking quite uneasy as he leaned away from Lysa, who was standing too close for comfort. The young girl found her eyes narrowing, a defensive spark of envy kindling within her.

Robin left her the instant he had shown her the dank room. Sansa pulled back the curtains, coughing as the dust stirred up. Next she set to pulling out her things, trying to make the lonely room feel somewhat acceptable.

A knock sounded as she was holding up one of her dresses before the broken mirror in the room, "You may come in." She answered, her eyes looking to the door she had first come through. Her brow wrinkled when she didn't see the door open, "I said you could come in." She called again, a bit louder.

"And I took you up on your first offer." A voice said off to her side, causing her to jump nearly out of her skin.

"Petyr." She snapped, her hand against her racing heart as she saw him standing by an opening in the wall, a smug look to his eyes.

"I apologize, my lady." He replied, bowing his head. His grin gave away his insincerity and amusement at her expense.

"What are you doing? What is that?" She demanded, tossing the dress onto an old chair and moving towards him to explore.

"These rooms are adjoined." He explained, watching her study the hidden door and testing how perfectly it was concealed when shut, "I convinced Lysa to allow me the room next to yours, saying you were prone to nervous spells when you were in a new place and that it might be for the best if I was close to you in case you needed me."

Sansa looked up through her lashes at him, her face etched in appreciation, "Thank you, Petyr."

"That," Petyr's smirk, gave way an additional perk, "and Lysa's room is on the opposite side of the castle."

She reached up and wacked his shoulder, her nose wrinkling as she made a face at his hidden motive. He could do nothing but laugh, his face beaming with high spirits.

Sansa light-heartedly rolled her eyes and moved to the window, watching the snow flurries make their way down.

Petyr watched her go, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. His heart had been consumed by her and he knew there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to keep her safe from harm.

His body began to ache, yearning to hold her in his arms. The only opportunities he had to were when they were asleep; he was never so bold as to try when she was awake.

"It has been a long day; I will leave you to rest and settle in." Petyr stated, breaking the silence.

Sansa turned to him and gave a small nod, her arms wrapped tightly around her to guard against the cold. Petyr inclined his head and began to take his leave.

"Will you leave the door open?"

He hesitated, his hand on the door, and smile bright, "Of course."

Once she was settled, Sansa found herself wandering towards the door between their rooms. She peered around the bend, looking for Petyr.

He sat at his desk, penning a quick letter, with a knowing grin on his face, "You can come if you so wish, you never need permission to enter my room, little pawn."

Sansa grew sheepish but started in at the open invite. Her eyes took in the elegance of his room, comparing it to hers. If hers were the servants' quarters, his was the king's.

She took a turn, her eyes wide with wonderment. Petyr stopped his writing and leaned back to enjoy her curiosity, never tiring of her inquisitive nature.

Soon enough she had picked up a book and settled herself into one of the plush, velvet chairs near his desk, content with the quiet. Petyr resumed his work and the pair stayed as they were until night had fallen and they were called for dinner.

The meal was uncomfortable to say the least. Robin, who was placed at one end of the table, chattered almost insanely to himself while Lysa attempted every trick to keep Petyr's attention on her.

Petyr sat across from Sansa, stealing a glance whenever he could. He threw a playful wink at her as he took a sip of his glass and Lysa tended to Robin.

Sansa smirked, giving a light roll of her eyes at their shared misery. Never had she expected Lysa to dictate the entire conversation, leaving no room for anyone else to add input. It was exhausting.

She had never felt such relief than when dinner came to an end and Petyr suggested that they turn in for the night, giving the excuse that they needed to rest from the long journey. Lysa wasn't too happy with the turn of events but she accepted them as graciously as she could and bid them good night.

Petyr offered Sansa his arm once they were safely in the hall and escorted her to their respected rooms.

"Why is she so angry at me?" Sansa asked, "I've barley said more than ten words to her."

Petyr patted her hand which rested in the crook of his arm, "Because she thinks you are my daughter."

"Wasn't that the point?" She said, her voice echoing off the expansive walls. Her eyes nervously darted around, her voice growing quite, "I mean, that was our plan after all."

"Yes, but I hadn't counted on her being jealous that another had given me a child when she could not." Petyr explained, "I thought her years spent at court would have seasoned her to the idea that natural children are a given where lords are concerned, but I was wrong."

Sansa nodded, understanding now. Her aunt was still in love with her husband and the thought not only made Sansa nauseous but a tad jealous herself.

"I will leave you here." Petyr said, stopping before her door, "If you need anything, do not hesitate to wake me."

Sansa pulled back, caught off guard, _why would he request adjoining rooms if we aren't going to sleep together?_

She nervously fidgeting with the handle, "C-can you leave the door open?" She asked, unable to meet his eye.

"Of course. Once you have finished dressing, you can open it from your side. There is a small groove in the stone, just pull it and the door will open." Petyr leaned forward and gave her her good night kiss, "Good night, little pawn. Sleep well."

"Good night." She whispered, watching him take his leave. Once she was inside, Sansa yanked off her scarf and began to undress, a sigh on her lips.

Her body stirred, recalling the jealousy that had sprung up within her as she witnessed Lysa's lust.

Sansa had wanted to spend tonight in his bed, in his arms; it was to be her way of getting the last word in and clarifying that he wasn't any ones but _hers_.

The thought shocked her and her hand hesitated over her brooch. Her eyes wandered to the mirror, growing unsteady as she took in her now womanly form.

"A-am I ready to be a wife?" She asked aloud, her disposition turned upside down. Sansa turned fully towards her reflection, pulling off her adornments and standing in just her thin slip, assessing herself.

Her face flushed, her confidence slipping as she harshly judged her tall form. Petyr had sworn to wait for her and her inexperience was starting to cloud her thoughts, telling her that she would never be good enough and could never please him.

Rook cooed quietly in the corner and she went to him, seeking comfort.

"I don't feel like I have to give myself to secure his alliance now." She confessed to her little friend, holding him up to her face, "But, does that mean I am ready to give myself to him?" Rook sniffed, his nose twitching adorably, and cuddled into her hand.

"Well, you are no help." She tsked fondly, giving him a final pet before putting him to bed. Her eyes wandered back to the mirror and she forced herself to stand tall.

"I am a Stark. I will not let my fears dictate what I do." She said, her head high as she sorted her thoughts and feelings.

Her smile grew when she realized she was truly ready to become Petyr's wife in every way; not because she was jealous of her aunt or wanted to solidify her alliance, but because she wanted to be his and him to be hers, this day until the end of their days. He was her friend, ally and companion, and would soon be her husband in every way.

 _I am ready_ , she told her reflection, the confidence alight in her eyes. Before her courage could wane, she made her way to her trunk and retrieved the tea.

She curled her knees under her chin as she watched the small pot boil in the fire embers, impatiently waiting on it. Her nose scrunched when she added the herbal mix to her cup, turned off by the too sweet smell, and poured the water into. Once it had cooled, she drank the small concoction in one long sip.

Sansa coughed, feeling the herbs weigh heavy on her body as they descended into her stomach, "Better to endure the poor taste now than the pain later." She set to cleaning up the space and stashed the tea back in her trunk.

Her nervous footsteps started towards the door and she hesitated before the mirror. Her teeth worried her lower lip, feeling like a child in her simple shift.

As her thoughts turned, she remembered something and rushed back to her trunk. When she had been unpacking, she noticed that one of Petyr's tunics had accidentally been mixed in with her clothes, which she had forgotten to return that afternoon.

In a fluid movement she removed her shift, the cool air rushed against her skin casting goosebumps along it, and pulled his night shirt over her head. His familiar scent filled her nose and she relished the comfort it brought, finding her courage once again.

Her fingers sought to smooth her loose hair and she gave an affirming nod to her reflection, "I am ready." With that, her soft footsteps started once more towards the door, the butterflies threatening to go forth as she stood before the hidden passage, ready to sneak through.

XxX

Petyr splashed the cool water on his face, throwing a handful against the nap of his neck before reaching for the small towel. He found himself staring at the secret door, wondering why he hadn't offered for her to stay in his room.

 _Because you wanted to give her space_ , he thought to himself, smirking as he tossed the towel aside and began applying the herbal patch Sansa had made before dinner to his scar.

He hesitated, wondering if that was truly the reason, _No, you did it because you wanted her to make a move of her own. You wanted her to seek you out and confirm your assumption of her growing trust in you, but she is not going to because you didn't give her an invitation too._

"It's going to be a long night." He mused, trying to ready himself for the lonely hours to come as he rubbed his eyes.

Petyr's ears caught the sound of the door shifting and he rushed to pull his tunic over his head. He let his eyes slowly wander up, controlling them so that he didn't appear too eager.

His nerves gave way when he saw Sansa standing shyly in the frame, her teeth worrying her lower lip and her feet shifting from side to side.

"Are you alright?" He asked anxiously, moving towards her and fearing something terrible had happened.

She looked up, tossing her dark hair back as she did so, "Yes, quite." She smiled faintly, trying to regain her confidence. Sansa could feel her heart beating in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins and making her sway.

"What's wrong?" Petyr pressed, knowing something was off.

Her large, doe eyes looked up to him as he stopped before her, "Nothing, I just…"

"Don't want to be alone?" Petyr finished for her, his tense shoulders easing when she nodded in confirmation. His hand ran back through his hair as he breathed a sigh of relief, "You can stay in here. Did you lock your door?"

Sansa stiffened a giggle at the fact that he had yet to notice her risqué choice in nightclothes and nodded again. The little thought lit up her eyes as she took the hand he offered her, her conviction solidified in the sanctuary of night.

Of course she had no idea how to go about anything really, but she was convinced now that Petyr truly wasn't skilled in the art of courtship, since he had yet to pick up on any of her attempts to flirt, and that made her feel on equal footing to him and bold enough to pursue her plan.

She stopped him as he went to release her hand and brought her other one up to hold onto his, "Petyr."

"Yes?" He asked, turning to her and still not catching on to what she was trying to convey. He was just content knowing no harm had come to her and that she was alright.

Worrying her lower lip, Sansa stepped closer. It was only then that he caught sight of what she wore.

"Is…is that my tunic?" He asked, his eyes narrowing and trying to see in the dimness of the room.

She nodded, taking a steady breath, "Petyr, I—I think I am ready."

His eyes studied her face intently, not sure what to make of her words. She smiled under his attention and dared a step forward.

"I'm ready." Sansa repeated. Daring a step forward, she gently pressed her lips to his.

Petyr didn't need any more encouragement; his hands cupped her face, deepening the kiss. Hers, which were shaking, rested against his chest; her body rushed with the desire that she had first felt the night of their wedding.

Petyr pulled back, his chest raising and falling, and rested his head against hers, "Sansa, are you sure..."

"I'm ready." She whispered again, feeling what she said as she pulled back to look at him with her convinced eyes. Before he could protest further, she leaned in and kissed him again, her novice lips trying to mimic what he had done before.

Petyr took hold of her small waist, holding her close to him and giving into the ache he had felt for so long. Sansa smiled against his lips, following her instinct and moving her arms to wrap around his neck.

With ease, Petyr picked her up and moved them to the bed. Tenderly, he sat her on the bed and stood over her, refusing to release her lips but not wanting to startle her by rushing things. This was something he had wanted for a long time; he could wait a few minutes more.

Sansa hesitantly reached for the hem of his tunic and pulled at it awkwardly. Petyr grinned and moved to help her, whispering to her bashful face that it was alright.

She looked back to him and her hand reached up to lovingly caressed his scar, longing to fix it for him.

"One day I will tell you the story." He promised, his voice hoarse with desire. Sansa looked up to him, her eyes trusting, and nodded.

"Are you sure?" He asked again, resting his head against hers.

Sansa nodded, her eyes determined, "I am."

"Do you trust me?" He whispered, his eyes drinking in the beauty of her face, knowing her answer would mean more than anything.

"I do." She smiled sincerely, bringing her hand up and cupping his face. Her eyes fluttered close as she leaned forward.

Petyr captured her lips again and she moved further onto the bed, beckoning for him to follow, which he did. Caringly he pulled the blanket over them, wishing to shield her from the cold as he pushed the hem of her tunic up her leg. Her heart raced at his touch, knowing that nothing would be between them soon. Petyr was quick to kiss her once more once it was off, keeping her thoughts elsewhere instead of her naked body, though his could think of nothing else.

Ever so slowly, Petyr eased her into what was happening. He waited for her to get used to their kisses before he moved to other passionate gestures, making sure she was enjoying herself and comfortable as they explored each other's body and moved closer to becoming one.

Sansa fidgeted with the button of his trousers, meeting his eye and letting him know this was what she wanted. Petyr assisted her and fondly trailed kisses across her face, getting her to smile.

Readying herself for the pain, Sansa took a fast hold to his neck as they kissed, her brow knitted. Petyr leaned back, a laugh coming from deep in his chest, as he brushed back her hair, "Would you like to stop, love?" He whispered in her ear, as if it were a secret just between them.

Sansa took comfort in his feathered touches, savoring the feel of their entwined bodies, "No." She turned to him and captured his lips.

With great care and affection, Petyr ushered Sansa into womanhood, tending to her every need and want. Their marriage vows were sealed, never to be broken from that moment on.

Petyr dropped his head into the curve of her neck, panting as the pleasure ebbed.

"That felt good. Really, really good." Sansa giggled childishly, bringing her hand up and running her fingers through her husband's hair.

It hadn't hurt nearly as much as she thought. _That tea does work wonders_ , she thought with a content sigh.

Petyr smiled, nuzzling against her neck and placing a chaste kiss against it. He inhaled her sweet scent, feeling like he could ask for nothing more in life.

"I love you, Sansa." He breathed as he thought it, giving into his deepest desire before he could second guess the thought.

Sansa turned her head to him, her chest settling from her high, her smile beaming as she reached up and brushed aside his ruffled bangs.

"I should move, since I do not wish to crush you." He replied cheekily, moving to his side of the bed and folding his arm behind his head, his breathing still ragged. She instantly followed, curling herself to his side.

"Ahh, my lovely little pawn." He whispered, bestowing a kiss upon her forehead and holding her close.

"I think I might prefer Lady Baelish, actually." She replied, her embarrassment playful as she buried her face into his arm.

Petyr laughed, his delight filling every part of his being, and turned to her, keeping her safely in his arms as he gifted her a kiss on the mouth. Sansa snuggled into him, her eyes growing weary.

He watched as she drifted to her peaceful dreams, taking his heart with her.

"Sleep well, little one." He bid, kissing her forehead lightly and settling himself to follow her lead, "Sleep well."

XxX

Petyr was the first to wake and smiled when he caught sight of Sansa curled tightly to his side, still deep in her slumber. He rested his head atop hers, kissing it slightly, and relaxed into the soft bed.

He found himself weaving one of her now black curls between his fingers; it was then that a thought struck him.

 _I don't love Cat anymore_ , he thought, freeing himself from the one thing which had been his life's constant torment, _Sansa might look like her, but I do not love her because of her mother; I love her because of who she is._

The revelation both terrified and rejuvenated him; he was finally free of the past. Petyr settled in next to his wife, finding the peace he had always sought for in their marriage bed.

The beauty in his arms began to stir. Sansa stretched out her arms like a cat and looked up to him, a pleasant grin on her face, "Good morrow, Lord Baelish." She said the name with a loving tone, awaiting his reply.

"Good morrow, Lady Baelish." He smiled, having never thought he would appreciate hearing the formal title on her lips.

"What do you wish to do today?" She asked, moving to lounge across his chest. Last night had solidified their bond and there was no need to be abashed in the morning's light; she was with her husband in their bed, and she felt no shame.

Petyr brushed back her ruffled hair, sighing contently, "You can explore the gardens if you wish."

Her brow furrowed, her nose following suit, "Do you not wish to join me?"

"I am supposed to have a late breakfast with Lysa and the council to discuss their relations with King's Landing." He answered carefully, not wishing for her to feel rejected after last night, "I would much prefer to spend the morning with you, little one."

Sansa nodded, understanding that the morning always brought with it the Game's recommencement.

"I can join you after, if that is alright. Or you can wait for me to return." Petyr offered.

She considered his words but shook her head, "I think some time to myself this morning will be nice. But I would like you to join me after your meeting, if that is alright." Her nose trailed across his bare chest, being careful of his scar, before placing a kiss over his heart.

"As you wish." He replied, lovingly caressing her face. He smiled when she leaned into the touch and kissed his palm.

"Why does the morning always have to come?" She lamented, resting her head against his chest.

"If we didn't have to face the lows of life than we would never appreciate the highs." He answered.

"Will I be as wise as you when I am your age?" Sansa teased, her eyes playful as she propped herself up. Petyr laughed and good-naturedly flipped her onto the empty side, moving to loom above her and keeping himself propped up by an arm on either side of her.

"Did you just call me old?" He inquired, his brow raised. Sansa just laughed, burrowing back into the mess of pillows and looking coyly up at him.

His lips crashed onto hers and he pulled her close, never wanting to let her go. She kept chuckling and gently pushed him back but he didn't budge, "You are going to be late for your meeting."

"They can wait." His lips mumbled against hers before he picked up right where they had left off.

XxX

Petyr caught sight of her slender form outside the window, the snow floating down around her and catching in her dark hair. He couldn't help but smile like a fool, admiring how she looked like a true queen in every setting.

 _She is a queen since she is the eldest heir of the North_ , his strategic side reminded. Petyr shook his head, not wanting to see her as a play piece any longer. She was his partner in the Game, not a pawn any more.

"Lord Baelish, it would be best if you focus on the task at hand." Lysa snapped, her usually bulging eyes narrowed, "Your daughter will be fine. It's only snow."

He turned back to the room and inclined his head in an apology, knowing he had already pushed his luck by showing up late. The meeting went on for another hour before they called for a break until tomorrow morning.

Petyr was quick to excuse himself and kept his composure only as long as he was in their presence. Once he took to the stairs, his feet took off like a rabbit's and he rushed outside like a besotted youth.

He looked around, knowing he had just seen her pass before the window a few minutes ago, and wondered if she had already headed back inside.

The snowball that met the back of his head told him otherwise. He turned around, following the sound of her musical laughter.

Sansa bent over, unable to take the scene before her, as she continued to giggle.

"Oh, you think that is funny, do you?" He called. She looked up and nodded, her eyes closed as she continued to enjoy her happy fit.

Petyr scooped up a handful of snow from one of the small tree limbs and hurried to form it before throwing it at her, watching it make contact and spread across her black cloak.

"Aye!" She called, hurrying to return fire.

The two went back and forth for a while before Petyr just threw caution to the wind and started chasing after her, determined to catch her. Sansa squealed, feeling the weight of her shoulders lifted as she played.

Finally Petyr caught her in one of his arms, pulling her close as she continued to laugh. Carelessly he placed a kiss on her neck and held her securely against his chest, "You aren't going to get away so you might as well admit defeat now, Lady Baelish."

"Never!" She giggled, throwing her head back against his shoulder. Every time she attempted to free herself, his careful hold would tighten ever so slightly and she would savor everything his protective arms signified.

Shame was an unheard of emotion in that moment, for Sansa felt like she was where she was supposed to be all along. She eventually gave up her struggle and leaned back against his broad chest, content. Petyr nuzzled his head into her neck, enjoying how well she fit into his arms. She leaned up and caressed his head, knowing that everything was going to be alright.

If either of them had chanced a look outside of their little sanctuary, however, they would have noticed an intrusive pair of eyes staring down at them from one of the lofty windows. A pair which was growing greener the longer Sansa and Petyr lingered in one another's arms.

XxX


	6. Dark News On Dark Wings

XxX

The rest of the week established a routine of its own. Each morning Petyr would attend negotiations, trying to sway the Eyrie to King's Landing, and each afternoon he would join Sansa for whatever activity she had chosen for them that day. Sometimes they would go for a walk and play their game of questions, other times they would enjoy each other's presence in the library. Eventually, each adventure ended with a short tryst beneath the safe canopy of snow weighed branches in the garden or a hidden alcove within the castle, which they would continue later that night in the safety of their sanctuary.

Petyr felt like his youth had been restored whenever he would hold the giggling Sansa close in his arms. Her face was always bright, the smile leaving no part untouched, and a laugh was ready to bubble up within her at a moment's notice.

Never had he seen her so happy, and it was all for him. That is what kept his smile in place during the long, dreary mornings spent with Lysa and her council.

But happiness always gives way to trouble eventually and the shadows' plots began to emerge on one of their quiet afternoons. Sansa sat curled up in a blanket by the fire, a book in one hand and her growing kit in the other.

Petyr was at his desk, allowing himself the leisure of gazing upon her never ending beauty. No matter how many times he stole a glace of her or even when she caught him and a small grin spread across her petal lips, her face coloring at the attention, he never tired of it. He was quite sure he would never tire of her.

Every title, land and coin could not compare to having her as his bride.

A messenger knocked on the door and entered when beckoned, handing off a small note before disappearing just as quickly as he had come.

"What is it?" Sansa inquired, looking over her book to him.

"It seems that Lysa wishes to speak with me." He sighed heavily, his face growing weary as he stood.

Sansa closed her book and set it aside, "May I come?"

"I don't see the harm in it. The note didn't say it was to be an intimate meeting." Petyr replied, wishing to not be left alone with the crazed Lady of the Vale.

Without another word Sansa rushed to put Rook away and retrieved a thicker cloak, not wanting to appear in her simple shift.

The pair walked on in silence, moving apart when they entered the main corridor, anticipating the typical guards and entourage of the castle to be present.

"Something is wrong." Sansa wrinkling her nose, feeling an uneasiness rush through her as they approached the quiet throne room. Petyr rose a brow, curious that there were no attendants busying about.

"Keep on guard." Petyr advised hurriedly in her ear, his hand lingering on the dagger beneath his vest.

Sansa nodded, her eyes narrowing as Petyr went before her. She needed to get a dagger of her own so she wouldn't be constantly dependent on those around her for protection.

They pushed open the doors and entered cautiously, their eyes hurrying to take in the room for any possible sign of danger.

The short hairs on the back of Sansa's neck prickled, sensing the presence behind her before it snatched her in its arms, pressing the tip of a dagger to her throat and forcing her to keep still.

Petyr was instantly on point, his own weapon drawn and ready, his face filled with ire.

Sansa closed her eyes, knowing who it was that held her captive before the name left Petyr's lips, "Lysa, let her go."

"Can a whore really mean that much to you?" Lysa sneered, spit foaming from her mouth as her anger came forth in full force.

Petyr's eyes flitted between Sansa, who held fast to her reason, and the raving Lady, "I told you, she is my bastard. Nothing more." For a chance, Sansa's head was even and calculating her next move while Petyr was fighting to keep control of his emotions.

"She should have been my daughter too!" Lysa cried, her voice cracking as she pressed the dagger into the girl's jaw, breaking the surface skin.

Fury sprung up within Petyr and he fought the need to rush into a fight when he saw the blood stream from Sansa's jaw. Her sweet eyes looked at him calmly, helping him regain his composure, "Let her go. She has done no harm to you."

"Oh, but hasn't she?" The mad woman laughed maniacally, causing Sansa to wince as it echoed around the room. The wind stirred from the open moon door, chilling the room and casting a menacing feel upon it.

"I saw you in the gardens!" Lysa snarled through clenched teeth, her hand flexing around the handle and warning Petyr to halt the steps he had begun to take towards her, "King's Landing has influenced you more than you know if you are willing to take your _own blood_ to bed! You should have been mine! You should have come back for me and left this whore in your brothel!"

Petyr halted, remembering how Lysa had more than hinted at her want to marry him during the council sessions, and tried desperately to unravel a move which would bring no more harm to Sansa. His thoughts were blurred, knowing how close Sansa was to having her life ended like Cat's, and he grew furious at the confusion. This was when he needed to be on point the most; he couldn't afford to let his anger distract him.

"I—I can find her a good match and…and you can stay here, rule as Lord of the Vale. You would like that, yes? The money and power, the titles. It is what you have always wanted!" The desperation in Lysa's voice turned Sansa's stomach as her aunt tried to sway Petyr with the lust of power he had kept company with for so long. If only the woman had known how the girl in her arms was quickly changing the seasoned player, "I have done _everything_ for you! I killed my husband…I…I told my sister the Lannisters did it. I would have had your child if it had not been for my father taking him from me! But, no, you don't want me! You want this bastard of yours!" With each word she spoke she drug the girl closer to the moon door.

"Lysa, please." Petyr returned his dagger to its sheath, holding his open hands out to show he meant no threat, "You don't want to hurt her." His eyes darted to the old, rickety doors and his hear raced, "I…I will do anything. Just let her go." He offered, his eyes flitting back to her.

Her hand began to tremble, the dagger relieved from Sansa's neck slightly as she did so, "Why couldn't you be mine?"

"I can be. Just—just let her go." Petyr replied, chancing a step forward, "I will stay here, with you, and we can be together."

Tears streamed down the old widow's face, "And what of her?"

"I can send her away. We will find her a good match and she can live in the outskirts of King's Landing, far, far away from here." Petyr continue. Though he knew the lie was the only thing that could calm the crazed woman, the idea of being parted from his little wife sickened him and he just barley kept his mask in place; his fear of being parted from her mixed with the threat of her looming death was too much of a distraction for his wit.

 _Sansa is playing her part, you need to as well,_ he chided himself, closing his eyes to clear his thoughts and taking a steadying breath. He had sworn to keep her safe and Petyr would not break any of his promises to Sansa this day; he would find strength in that.

Lysa's grip loosened even more and her arm, which had been pinning Sansa's arms, eased, "Do you swear by the old and the new gods that you will do this?"

"I so swear." Petyr replied desperately, his eyes looking to Sansa who stood with a calculating expression.

 _She is planning a move of her own_ , he thought, hoping she would take the chance to flee and leave him to do the dirty work.

The flight or fight stirred within Sansa and she knew she could do nothing but the latter. She was a Stark and a Tully; she was prepared for this and would protect her own.

 _Winter is coming. I am ready to play the Game_ , she closed her eyes, meditating on her House words, _Family. Duty. Honor. Petyr is my family and I will protect my own._

Lysa's thin lips turned up in a smile, easily falling prey to Petyr's lies and innocent to Sansa's plan, "Oh, Petyr."

Sansa took advantage of the moment and snatched the dagger from the distracted woman. Instinct took over and she plunged the weapon up to the hilt into her gut. Blood splattered forth, coating Sansa's dress and face, returning a more sinister red halo to her hair.

"I will protect my own!" She hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes hate filled.

The threat still breathed and her hands twisted the knife further in, making sure it would die that day. Triumph over her enemy surged within her, empowering her and showcasing to the world that she was able to take care of herself when it had come down to it.

But the reality of her actions soon seized her, realizing the blood that now coated her hands was that of her own kin, and her eyes grew with horror.

Lysa's mouth was spewing the warm, life giving liquid and she stumbled back. Her foot caught and sent her dangerously close to the edge. Sansa reached out too late as her body fell through the doors and descended to the snow covered peaks far below.

Sansa's emotions took hold and she lunged forward, desperately trying to take back what she had done. Petyr's arm caught her waist, pulling her away from her the lip and throwing them to the floor.

Tears blurred Sansa's eyes and her body shook with sobs, her thoughts tormented by what she had just done.

"Shh, shh." Petyr hushed, brushing back her hair and holding her close, the blood stain his cloths too as she clung desperately to his chest, casting him with equal guilt, "It's alright little one, shhh."

"I…I…" She tried to get out, her wide eyes locked on the opening where the wind violently thrashed, "I killed h-her."

"You were protecting yourself." Petyr explained gently, continuing to hush in her ear soothingly. He held fast to her as her strength waned, her emotions broke through her well-constructed dam and filled the air of death around them with her wail of mourning.

Her body grew exhausted and she fell into a sleeping faint, her small body unable to take the stress any longer. Caringly Petyr picked her up and started to their room, knowing he would call for the council once she was settled.

Gently he laid her on her bed and set to removing the ruined cloak before washing the blood from her face and arms, wishing to rid her of the moment.

"It will be alright." He brushed aside her hair and chastely kissed her forehead, moving the blanket up to keep her warm, "I will be back soon." With that, he took his leave to face the council and the consequences of the unplanned move.

XxX

Sansa startled awake, drenched in sweat and clawing at her chest, trying to escape the grip of her captor. She calmed when she learned it was nothing but a dream and turned over in bed, searching for Petyr.

Her heart raced when she found the bed empty.

"Petyr?" She called, searching the room in a panic as the memory of what took place attacked her. Tearing back the blankets, she rushed to the secret door. The handle wouldn't give in as her terror took hold. Tears traced down her cheeks as she began pounding desperately on the door, "Petyr! Oh, Petyr!"

The door behind her flew open and Petyr ran in, his eyes anxious. Sansa ran towards him and threw herself into his arms, collapsing against his chest. He slowly lowered them to the floor, beginning his ministrations once again as he had done in the throne room.

"Shh, shh." He comforted, brushing her hair back and nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck, "Calm yourself, everything is alright."

"W-where were you?" She demanded, her hands clutching his tunic and her nails beginning to tear it.

"With the council." His eyes grew dark when he looked around at the empty room, knowing the appointed servant he had sent to watch over her had a severe beating waiting for him.

"I…I ruined e-everything!" Sansa exclaimed, burrowing her head into his shoulder, "I'm a stupid little pawn. Stupid, so stupid!"

"Sansa." Petyr gently pushed her back, taking her head into his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumb, "You did nothing wrong. She held you at knife point and was threatening your life; there was nothing else you could have done."

"I—I…killed her thought." She mumbled, her tears causing a storm in her sea eyes which fluttered closed, replaying the death of her aunt over and over.

"No, stop." He firmly shook her head, forcing her attention to the present. The terse gesture instantly shocked her from her upset and she met his eye, "You defended yourself against a mad woman. Believe me, you will be asked to do more than that if you wish to survive the Game. To earn your freedom, to avenger your family, blood will have to be spilt. Innocent and otherwise. There is no need to concern yourself over a death which was done in self-defense."

"But why?" She asked, remembering her question beneath the safety of the Godswood long ago.

Petyr softened his lips into a small smile, gently caressing her face, "Because that is how you gain ground in the Game and safeguard against future harm. Your conscious will soon learn that in everything it will always come down to you and them and that they will stop at nothing to crush you. All of them want you dead. If you are not playing for them or are of no more use to them then you are a liability. You must kill them before they can you, that is a rule of the Game. It will get easier, with time, to accept such ways."

Sansa sat back, rubbing her red eyes as she considered his words, her body rocking from side to side. Her hands began to shake, her muscles recalling how it felt to take another's life, "What do you call lies and tricks then? And m-murder of the innocent, if there are rules? Surely that is not a fair way to play."

Petyr followed suit and sat back on the ground, sighing, "Strategy. And each strategy comes with a sacrifice which is why you have to weigh every option before moving your pieces forward. There will be inevitable consequences for the rash move we made today, but I believe I have found our next play."

She nodded, accepting his words reluctantly as she thought about Rook. Petyr let his eyes wander to the window, giving her time to think.

"Will I ever become a liability to you?" Came her small voice, "Will you ever sacrifice me for your advantage?"

Instantly his head turned to her, his jaw rigid and eyes bothered by the question, "Never. You're not just a pawn anymore, you are my partner. I will never sacrifice you for anything." The strong words echoed throughout the vast room, filling in the space around them and casting a spell of protection upon them.

Sansa slowly crawled towards him and into his lap. Petyr wrapped his arms tightly around her, protecting her physically but unable to do anything for her tormented thoughts.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked hoarsely, the knowledge that he couldn't fully shield her from this was almost unbearable. Never had he felt so weak before.

She dropped her head to his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck, "Just stay with me."

XxX

A new normal was founded over the next few days. Sansa was under attach once again by her night fits; only this time it was she who was the monster to be feared. Petyr knew exactly when they would hit each night and he would wake just before, moving to wrap his arms around her in the cover of night, ready to sooth her when she awoke. When dawn broke, she would be slightly better than the previous day.

She stayed close to Petyr throughout the day, refusing to leave his side, and would routinely look up to see where he was as if she were worried he might disappear even though he was no more than a few feet away.

 _The first life you take is always the hardest_ , Petyr thought patiently, finding his strength renewed each day to look to her needs.

A week after the incident, the council called for a session to determine how to move forward with Robin taking up the title Lord of the Vale and to schedule a trial for the events which had taken place. Petyr outright refused to allow them to call Sansa forward until she had regained enough of herself but Sansa knew what was required of her and took up her mask once more to follow through with their next move. She had caused their problems; she would be the one to fix them.

Petyr admired her strength as she confessed to them her true identity, that she was a Stark and Petyr's wife, and how scared she had been when her aunt tried to take her life. The council came around her in support and agreed to keep the incident hushed. With that they adjourned for the day, knowing the girl had faced enough that week.

"I am proud of how you handled yourself this afternoon." Petyr confessed as they readied for bed. He splashed the cool water on his face, enjoying the relief it offered.

"I am a mockingbird after all; I just need to remember the purpose behind our Game." She stated, trying to reaffirm herself and find her strength, "If I think about the larger picture, I can handle it." She told herself, trying to believe her own words.

Unashamed, Sansa pulled off her vest and shift and went in search of one of his tunics to wear. Petyr smiled as he dried his face, noticing how the auburn was starting to return to her hair, before moving to the bed.

"Petyr?"

"Yes, little pawn?" He answered, settling into the bed and feeling the weariness of his muscles. Not only was his body tired, but his mind was exhausted. Sleep could not come soon enough.

"Will you tell me the story now?" She asked, laying her dress over the chair and moving towards their bed.

Petyr winced, thankful for the concealing dark, "Which one is that?"

"The one about your scar." She pressed, reaching for her mixture and spreading it across his old wound, which seemed to be growing fainter with each treatment.

He ruffled his growing bangs, which were due for a cut, and sighed, "It was a long time ago, hardly worth telling."

"Yes, but I want to know everything about you." Sansa crinkled her nose, the strong scent of the herb tickling her nose. Her thoughts remembered the tea Margaery had given her, thankful she hadn't needed to take any more since her first night with Petyr, "This is one of the things that made you Lord Petyr Baelish, I would like to know how it did that."

Petyr watched her tender actions and curious eyes as she spoke, "When your mother's betrothal was announced, I foolishly challenged her suitor to a duel."

"My father?" Sansa pulled back, unable to believe her father could cut down an innocent youth.

"No, his elder brother, Brandon." Petyr explained, seeing her eyes ease at the more believable news, "He won with ease and would have killed me if Cat hadn't talked him into sparing my life."

"So, you were spared by a woman in a man's battle?" She asked, no maliciousness to her voice, "Is that why you are ashamed? Or is it that you lost both the duel and her affections?" She inquired, cleaning the mess and settling into bed herself.

"Both." Petyr confessed, feeling more at ease when she curled to his side.

Sansa rested her hand against his chest, her eyes lingering on the scar, "Do you still love her?"

"No." He replied with a satisfied grin, knowing his answer was true.

"Are you quite sure?" She questioned, a twinge of jealousy feeding it. Sansa buried her head into the crook of his arm, too embarrassed to me his eye; never had she thought she would have to worry about her husband being in love with her mother, let alone her jealousy at the notion.

"Quite. There is only one woman I love now." He smiled, brushing back her hair and kissing the side of her head. He could see through her with ease, "There is no need to be jealous."

"Oh, none at all." She replied darkly, her eyes angry with herself as she looked up to him, "My mother is dead and now so is my aunt, by my hand. There is no other Tully to compete with for your affection. I won."

Petyr just stared at her, dumfounded; never had he been so at a loss of words.

She huffed, brushing back her hair, "I just want to forget about all of the bad things right now."

"Very well. Good night, Sansa. Sleep well." He nodded, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes. Petyr could feel her shifting beside him and move atop him. He opened an eye and looked to her as she leaned down to kiss him.

Her face colored, her eyes growing shy by her attempt. Not wanting her to feel humiliated or, worse still, rejected, he brought his hand up and pulled her back to him.

"I guess sleep will have to wait." He mumbled against her lips, the pleasure sweet in his voice His weary bones gave into the ache his body felt for her, knowing he would never tire of her and that he could at least give her the distraction she desperately needed.

XxX

Things were just beginning to settle when a raven brought the devastating news of the wedding. King Joffrey had been poisoned and Tyrion Lannister was being held on charges of his murder.

With the loss of the Eyrie's regent and the king of Westeros, Tywin ordered that they stay on in the Vale until further notice.

Sansa began accepting the strategies of the Game, finding comfort in the strength of her inner direwolf and the wings of protection her mockingbird offered. Her softness began to harden from the years of suffering she had endured, like licks of a flame did to a sword, and she was becoming a player in her own right. Her mask was removed only in the darkest shadows of the night, when she was protected in the sanctuary she had built with her companion.

Those nights were enough to give her courage to face the impending mornings.

Petyr planned out their next few moves, taking care to keep her away from any additional blood stains to her hands. He had never meant for her to kill her aunt, though he had assumed he would have to take action himself sooner or later, and now he was left to do damage control of not only Sansa's mending spirit but their Game.

And he could plan out every move. All, that is, except for one.

XxX

Sansa strolled among the quiet garden, the snow lightly drifted down and caught in her hair, which had now returned to its beautiful Tully color. Her hand brushed against the soft snowfall, creating a second snowing which floated gently to the ground.

Her time of bleeding was well past now.

Shae had warned her that in the first year it was quite common for times to be missed but Sansa had missed one before when she was still in King's Landing and this was different. She couldn't place it, but she could feel something stirring in her body.

Her hand gently rested on her stomach as she continued her turn, a small, unsure smile on her face. Sansa's thoughts remembered Petyr's words the night of their wedding, about how it would be easier to watch just her.

Part of her was terrified of what this could mean, and another part of her, the one that had always longed to be a mother, celebrated with all of her heart. Could she be with child?

The thought made her blush and want to laugh all at once.

"Sansa?" Petyr's voice echoed across the garden as he leaned over the balcony, searching for her.

Sansa stopped and waved up, "Here I am. I was just enjoying a short walk before dinner."

He smiled when his eyes found her, "Well, the meal is almost ready and a storm is picking up." He called down, nodding for her to come in.

"I will meet you in the hall." She returned, starting back towards the castle. Her hands still rested against her stomach, not sure when she should tell him or if she even should.

A terror gripped her, fearing that he might make her get rid of the child so it didn't hinder their plans.

"No." She said firmly, "No, Petyr wouldn't do that."

"What wouldn't I do?" A voice caught her off guard and she jumped, turning around to find her smirking husband.

Sansa rested her hand on her heart, her pulse steadying, "Petyr, stop sneaking up on me." She snapped, harsher than she intended.

He held up his hands, not sure what to make of her mood swing, "I apologize, my lady. Truly."

Her narrowed eyes scrutinized his face, testing his sincerity. She nodded when she had uncovered enough of it and continued on her way.

"Sansa, are you feeling well?" Petyr asked, catching up to her with ease.

"Yes, quite. I'm just not very hungry. I think I will head to bed; I'm not up to the council's company tonight." She replied, keeping a distance between them as they walked on. Her only purpose in moving away was based upon her worry that he might be upset by the news and she didn't want him ruining her joy, timid though it may be.

Petyr did not know this, though, and grew anxious by her distance, "Alright, would you like me to accompany you?"

"There is no need." Sansa stopped and hurriedly brushed her lips to his cheek, trying to sooth him, "I will see you after dinner."

Petyr watched her go, not sure what to make of it, "Very well, my lady." Rubbing his neck he started towards the dining hall, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. He knew she needed time to herself and that he would have to grant it to her, whether he wanted to or not.

XxX

A pain grew in her lower back as she sat sewing and she could only take it for so long. Reluctantly, she got up and started boiling a kettle of water.

Her nose wrinkled when she retrieved the small pouch and made up her cup, "Hopefully you work for other aches too. I don't know how much longer we will be here and I can't afford to use up any of the stock I brought for Petyr's compresses." She said, tired of the night's stillness.

"Cheers." She called to the empty room, plugging her nose and rushing the concoction down her gullet. Sansa shook her head, her lips smacking at the nasty taste.

She moved to her chair and took up her work once again, hoping Petyr would return soon as her loneliness set in.

Unable to focus on the task at hand, she lowered her head to the plush back of the chair and gazed out at the quiet night, catching sight of the ancient stars.

A small smile touched her lips as she imagined a small boy with a mess of dark tresses, the perfect shade between Stark and Baelish, and vibrant grey eyes. Never would there be a more handsome child in all of Westeros.

XxX

Petyr sat at the table, the humming of the council in his ear and his plate untouched. Something was wrong with Sansa and he had to figure out what; his brain wouldn't be able to rest and enjoy his meal until he did.

A small courtier rushed into the room, his tiny feet padding against the stone floor and coming to stop before Petyr, "A raven for you, my lord."

Petyr accepted the message and sheltered it with his shoulders before he unrolled it.

 _Petyr – Margaery have been desperately trying to reach Sansa since you left and believes that her letters are being intercepted. I fear the ones I have sent before now have as well and I pray to the gods that this one makes it through._

His heart began to pound, the blood seizing in his veins as he hurried to read the small handwriting, anxious as to what was afoot.

 _Before you left, Margaery received a note from Sansa thanking her for a gift of herbal tea she never gave her. Someone is trying to hurt her and you need to protect her. Whatever you do, do not let her drink the tea. Keep her safe. OT._

 _Olenna Tyrell_ , Petyr thought, his hand crushing the letter as he threw back the chair and took off running, leaving the room in an uproar.

"Sansa!" His voice echoed off the tall walls, carrying throughout the castle, "Sansa!" Panic surged through him as he took the corners sharply, his feet pounding against the uneven ground and pushing him forward.

He didn't stop and knock as a gentleman should, he threw open the doors to their room violently and sprinted in, his chest heaving and breath ragged.

His frightened eyes quickly searched the room for her, "Sansa?" He turned around on uneasy feet, looking for her.

"Petyr, what is wrong?" Sansa asked, her voice panicked as she hurried from her chair.

He held up the note, his eyes cross, "Where is the tea?"

Sansa instantly colored, knowing she was caught, and nodded to her trunk, "It's under my jewelry box." Her eyes watched as his hard steps echoed around the room, his shoulders taut.

"Why are you so upset?" Sansa asked, confused by his outburst, "It is nothing more than a pain remedy Margaery gave to me."

Petyr snatched up the pouch and poured some into his hand. The strong smell of mint with the bitterness of wormwood and tansy filled his nose, the aftermath of other sickly sweet herbs following.

"Moon tea." He cursed through his clenched teeth, angrily moving to the fireplace and tossing the whole lot of it into the flames. Before he could master his anger his fist met with the stone wall and the aftershock filtered through the room, scaring the young girl.

"M-moon tea?" Sansa's eyes widened with horror, her hands flitting to her stomach. She was naïve still at sixteen, but not enough to not know about the abortive drink.

"Did you know about it? Why wouldn't you tell me about it?" Petyr turned sharply towards her, the hurt twisting with him and creating an unstoppable ire which dismissed all of his reason, "Did you figure out what it was and take it on purpose? Is that what you did?" In an instant he was before her, taking hold of her shoulders, "Tell me the truth, did you?"

"Of course not!" She sobbed, turning away. Her emotions assaulted her from all sides. The stress of the Game pressed in around her, guilt for taking the poison willingly, confusion as she tried to understand what was going on, anger at whoever would do such a thing; it all consumed her and the damning anger of her ally and companion left her alone in the storm of terror.

Seeing her cower was enough to calm Petyr's fury and he instantly released her, knowing he had been wrong, "Sansa, I—"

Her body was unable to take the torrent surrounding her as the poison took hold, with a painful cry she crumbled to the ground.

"Sansa!" Petyr was beside her in an instant. Blood was seeping through her dress, dyeing it a deadly read. He quickly picked her up in his arms and started towards the door, "We have to get you to the maester."

XxX

The maester had him place her on a cot by the warm fire as he conducted his examination. His face was bleak and his head dropped, knowing what misfortune had come about.

Petyr paced amongst the shadows, consumed with worry for his little wife, and completely oblivious to the pain in his own hand.

Finally, the maester moved towards him and Petyr hurried to meet him, casting a careful look at Sansa, who stared blankly into the fire.

"Will she be alright?" Petyr demanded, his eyes never leaving Sansa, whose dress was stained with her own blood. Petyr had seen enough deaths to know half that amount could spell the end for a man.

Speaking in a whisper, the maester nodded slowly, "The moon tea took a great toll on her body and she will need to be on bedrest for the time being, I am not sure yet if there will be any lasting effects."

"Lasting effects?" Petyr asked, turning to the maester with a knit brow.

"Your wife is not yet fully grown and her body is very sensitive to the herbs." The maester explained gently, "She says she has only taken it twice, by accident of course, but even that can do considerable damage to one so young."

"Stop speaking in riddles." Petyr demanded, too tired for games. He pressed the palm of his hand against his eyes, just needing to hear that she would be alright, "Will she live?"

"She will, but she might not be able to carry a child ever again." The maester answered bluntly, his face sorrowful, "Do you have any idea who could have done this to her? I know not of someone who is capable of such evil." He looked over his shoulder to the small girl, sympathy pooling in his eyes, "No one deserves such cruelty."

Petyr's eyes narrowed as the pieces began to fall into place, "Yes, and I will be taking care of it. But for now, I need her tended to. Do your job and make sure she will be alright. Am I understood?" Petyr looked to the older man, the threat clear in his voice.

"Yes, my lord." The man inclined his head, "There is one more thing." He began.

Petyr, who had started moving towards the now quiet Sansa, looked back and the older man dropped his head, "She was with child, a little over a month."

Petyr's face shattered, his heart tore in two and lay visible in the depths of his eyes, "W-with child?" His voice was that of a man who had lost everything.

 _Not everything_ , he reminded himself, turning to look at his downhearted little bride.

"I am sorry for your loss, my lord. I will give you some time and will come back later to tend to your hand." The maester offered, knowing the couple needed time to grieve.

The door closed behind the maester and Petyr quickly took up the chair beside the cot, reaching out to take her cold hand.

Her red eyes turned to him, her face gaunt, "Petyr, I—I lost him." The tears tore at her face, exposing the rawness of her broken soul, "Our son, Petyr…oh, our boy, how stupid I am!" She turned away as the sobs overtook her body, unable to face her shame.

"Oh, my little love, it is nothing to be ashamed of." Petyr replied gently, reaching up and brushing back her matted hair, "We each have to learn hard lessons in life, you have seen mine first hand. But, you will survive this. We will get through this."

"He—he was going to be _beautiful_ , Petyr. So handsome! He'd have ten little toes, ten little fingers, and a stock of dark curls just like you and eyes as vibrant as a winter storm. Oh, Petyr…"

Petyr took her small hand in his and gently kissed it, "It wasn't your fault, you didn't lose him. He was taken from us."

"It was her." Her voice croaked hoarsely, empty of tears. She looked to him, a mother's anger consuming her, "She told me that a woman couldn't help loving her babies and she took mine away from me Petyr! She stole him, Petyr! She stole my son!"

"Shhh, hush now, love. You need rest." He brushed back her bangs from her warm forehead.

Her hand shot out, stopping his comfort and wanting to wallow in her misery. The pain of losing her child, who barley had a chance, and the guilt of feeling like it was her fault overcame her and she crumbled into a little ball, praying for death.

Petyr moved onto the bed and captured her in a tight embrace to share in the loss of their child, knowing he was powerless to do anything else.

Sansa found tears anew and her body began to shake, her hands holding fast to his protective arm. He held her fast, knowing he could only protect her from so much.

"Sleep now, the morning will bring peace with it."

She continued to mourn, feeling as if the sanctuary she had worked so hard to keep sacred had been stolen from her. There was no safe place now.

"We will get through this. Together." Petyr promised, burying his head into her hair and taking comfort in the fact that she would be alright, "Shh, shh." He kissed the side of her head before resting his atop hers, his arms kept tightly around her, "We will get through this."

"Yes…" She said fiercely, her anger overshadowing her heartbreak as the tears began to dry. The growl of a mother direwolf rumbled within her chest and her narrowed eyes locked on the roaring fire, "Yes, we will, and they will _burn_."

XxX


	7. The Pawn's Move

XxX

For the next week Sansa was confined to their bed, her body recovering from the miscarriage and her anger simmering for the time being. Petyr had his larger desk moved into their room, though he spent most all of his time sitting on the bed with her, his papers spread about and his small portable desk in his lap.

Sansa couldn't help but smile when she saw his doting nature come out. He had completely given up any attempts to hide his fondness from her and was consumed by his need to tend to her wellbeing. Servants were redundant for Petyr took care of whatever she could need and more.

 _He would make a great father_ , she thought, her heart stuttered and paused her hand which had been sewing.

"Are you alright?" Petyr asked, the nerves slipping into his voice as he looked up. He tried his best to conceal his worry but couldn't.

"Yes, quite." She masked with a quick smile, resuming her work.

"May I ask what you are working on?"

Sansa held the piece close to her chest, concealing it from view, "No, it's a surprise."

Petyr just shook his head, a smile on his lips, and returned to his business.

"It's something to show that no matter what, they can't break us." Sansa hinted in a whisper, as if it were a grand secret she wanted him to guess at, and turned back to her sewing, "They tried to and their move has only strengthened us; we will prevail no matter what they throw at us."

He looked back up, watching her for a while. She was a Stark through and through; a fighter until the end. The only difference between her and those is her House was that she kept her head about her, a trait the males in her line severely lacked.

 _With my cleverness and her spirit we will truly be a force to be reckoned with_ , he thought triumphantly, _Nothing can break us._

Another week passed rather quietly, and then the raven came.

"We are summoned back to King's Landing." Petyr lounged against the bedpost, his brow stressed as he read the short note.

Her pulse jolted, "W-when do we leave?" She asked, trying to keep her mask in place.

Petyr saw through her in an instant, but let her pretend she had fooled him as he folded the note and stowed it in his pocket, "A couple days' time, enough to ready the ship. The maester said you will be able to make the trip without any danger to your health. By the time we reach King's Landing you should be well enough to take up small tasks around the house and such but he wants you to take it easy for a while." He stepped towards her and gently brushed back a few loose strands from her face, "I don't think we should tell anyone else about the miscarriage, not just yet anyway. I want to test the waters before we decide how to proceed."

She nodded that she understood as he moved to his desk.

After a while, Sansa wrinkled her nose, her thoughts turning, "Where will we live?"

He rose a brow, turning to her with crossed arms as he tried to figure out what she meant, "I assumed in King's Landing, but if you have a better—"

"No, I mean will we have to live in your…brothel? I don't want to stay in your quarters at the castle anymore. It's too close to _them_." She replied, her face etched with disdain, "I don't need anything else snuck into my meals."

"I can secure us alternative living quarters." Petyr replied, his eyes watching her in intense study. She turned back to her work, finishing off a final stitch and muttering something to herself.

"Do you wish me to give up the trade?" He asked, curious what her answer would be.

Her hand froze and her eyes slowly lifted, "What would you say if I said that is what I want?" She answered in step, matching his wit.

"Then I would tell you the truth; it would be a risky move since we would lose most all of our little birds and the secrets they bring. It would be giving up considerable ground in the Game, placing us a step behind most, and take quite a bit out of our pockets, though I know you could care less about the monetary aspect. But, if that is what you truly want, I will close my doors and send all those I employ away."

Her eyes narrowed, testing whether this was a trick or not. Was he passively trying to sway her to his side? Or did he mean what he said?

"Sansa," Petyr moved to kneel by her feet, his hand resting on hers, "If that is what you want, then tell me and I will close it down."

She smirked, figuring his move out, "You are only saying that because you can see the religious fever getting ready to spread across the city." She chuckled, knowing her husband too well, and let her eyes wander slyly to his face.

Petyr inclined his head, a silent touché, "That would make it easier, of course. But I stand by what I said; I want to make you happy."

"Keep your whores, they will prove useful in the end. I refuse to give up so much ground simply for my uneasiness with the business. We have to stay ahead of them from now on, we can't afford any more…missteps."

He watched her, testing if any softness or innocence was left in the shattered girl. But she wasn't a girl any longer; she had seen the death of most of her family in her short life, been on the receiving end of so much cruelty, and had her child taken from her in the night. All of which had stolen the remaining pieces of her innocence from her.

No, she was no longer a girl but a woman. A woman scored and out for blood. Nothing, not even her morals, would stop her from exacting her vengeance for her lost child. Part of him mourned the loss of her childish naivety and the other stood in awe of her embracing the power she held; if only she wouldn't lose who she was to the Game like he had all those years ago.

Her bright eyes darted to his, a dark touch on her lips, and brought him back to the present, "But do remember that you are my husband; never bring even the thought of them to our bed or Varys will have someone to commiserate with." The unnecessary threat was clear as new glass and he could see that her emotions were the driving force behind them, not her reason.

 _Direwolves, quite possessive creatures_ , he thought amused, knowing it was a promise she would keep good on.

"I have sworn to you before, I do so again now, upon the old gods and the new—"

Sansa waved away his flowery words, "Swear not upon the changing gods or your dead, bastard king, not even your money, titles, or honor. I know that those are fleeting and you never take your oaths upon them seriously. You have lied on them too many times, hoping they would give credence to your claim and false vows."

"What do you wish for me to swear upon, my lady?" He inquired, quite taken by her force. Of course he had meant the vows beneath the Godswood and his pride was wounded by her accusation. Did she really think so little of his word?

Her eyes met his boldly and he felt exposed, his soul open as if a book to be studied and read by all, "Swear upon me."

Petyr pulled back, caught off guard.

"I know where I stand with you; swear upon our vows beneath the Heart Tree, upon my life. Only then will I know you mean what you say." She held her head, feeling the truth behind her words. Never had she trusted anything more than what she felt in that moment. She had been deceived enough by life but this she knew to be the truth above all truths; she was the only thing which meant anything to the skilled player. She was his only weakness.

"I so swear, my lady." Petyr bowed his head, mimicking a knight, and slowly raised it again. His eyes flickered to the work in her lap, "Now, since I have sworn my allegiance to you alone my lady wife, may I see what you have been working so fervently on this past week?"

Sansa's smile grew, her mood that of a summer storm which appears just as quickly as it disappears, leaving a trail of blue sky in its grey wake. She set aside her things and reached for a folded tunic on her bedside, "It is a gift." She handed it to him and moved to sit beside him like an excited child, "Go on, open it."

Grinning like a boy, he did as he was told and held up the fabric to catch the light.

"Do you like it?" Her giddiness was echoed in her voice as she bounced nervously, her teeth worrying her lower lip.

Petyr gazed in awe at the piece, a beautiful sigil stitched above the heart of it. It wasn't his claimed mockingbird, though, but a mix of his and Sansa's. A direwolf and mockingbird, stitched in black, lying almost camouflaged atop an intricate trinity of silver twists. It was like a rose protected by its thorns; no one could touch the pair, who sat back to back so as to watch over the other, beneath their silvery shield.

"I figured since you are a man of your own making and I am of a traitorous House, it would be best if we could both start anew. A new start, as it were, with a new sigil." Sansa hurried to explain, her face growing concerned at his quietness.

"Sansa, I—"

"You don't like it?" She breathed, her face frowning.

"No, no, that is not it at all. I—" He looked at her, hoping his appreciation would show where his words failed. A tenderness etched onto his face; knowing no one had ever showed him such love before. No one had ever wanted him before; the thought scared him as much as it touched him.

Her smile lit up, reading the open heart in his eyes, "I'm working on a cloak for myself." She moved back and picked up the thick, blue fabric she had set aside and held it out to be admired, "I figured you might want to keep yours more discrete, considering your line of work, but I don't want too. I want to show them that they can't break me."

He nodded absentmindedly, taking in the beauty of her work. Embroidering was a gift neither her mother nor her aunt had; this was a gift the gods had bestowed upon Sansa which was all her own.

"All good Houses have words, have you thought of any?" He finally said, quickly looking up to her.

Sansa crinkled her nose as she thought, "I haven't."

"What about…" He gently figured the intricate stitching of her cloak, imagining the fury it would spark within the Red Keep, "'Nothing can break us'?"

Her face instantly lit up, "Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

"House Stark and Baelish come together; never would I have thought to see the day." Petyr smirked, embracing the ironic nature of life.

"An unbreakable alliance." She smiled playfully, finding her hope again.

Petyr looked up to meet her softening eyes, catching a glimpse of the young girl he had once known, "Aye, and one to be reckoned with."

XxX

The seas were rough as they made their way back to King's Landing. The tumultuous storm mirrored that of the one raging within the beauty resting in the vessel's depths.

As they drew closer to the Iron Throne, Petyr saw what little softness Sansa had left evaporate. Her heart hardened to steel as they returned to the place that had been her prison for so long.

 _The price of playing the Game_ , Petyr thought as he leaned against the rail, the salty air brushing through his hair and against his face, _She is trying to find a way to guard herself from ever being hurt again._

Never would he have thought someone could break through his walls as easily as Sansa had; the pawn had become his partner and he would do anything for her, become anything she needed.

That thought shook him to his very core, but it wasn't because he was asked to be something he wasn't. No, Sansa was pushing him to reach his full potential.

A boy of no means and who everyone had always said was worthless now found meaning in her encouragement and fighting spirit. No longer did he feel a need to prove himself; to gather wealth and titles to show that he belonged and was worth something. He was quite content with his one ship and the beautiful wife who gave him his place in this world.

His hand ghosted over his scar, concealed by the vest he wore, and ended up pressed against his heart, where his new sigil lay.

A small smile brushed his lips and his eyes wandered out over the open sea, _I feel like a new man with a new goal. Today is bright and tomorrow will be brighter still._

What Petyr didn't know was that as he was finding his purpose, his small wife was hidden within the shadowy hull of the ship as a battle of dark thoughts raged on inside her.

Anger consumed her and bitterness kept her company, the loss of the child overwhelming her with an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

 _So this is what Cersei meant when she said we can't help but love our children_ , she thought with a scowl as her movements grew harsh.

His name was going to be Daragh, after the oak tree which bound his mother and father as one. He was going to be of a darker appearance than his mother, who looked almost sun kissed compared to the rest of her wintery family.

How dare anyone take that away from her; whoever had a hand in it would pay dearly.

With a frustrated sigh, Sansa closed her eye and leaned her head back; the image was so real she could almost see his piercing silvery eyes looking up at her as he played by her feet.

Tears stung her eyes and slipped through her thick lashes, her anger giving way to pain. Her body might have healed but her heart was a long way from being whole again.

"Focus on your work." She chided herself, shaking her head as she sat up, "You don't want to ruin it. Focus on what you need to do." She said, knowing she was talking about things far beyond the cloak now.

Sansa poured herself into her work for the next hour and pride stirred within her as she held up her finished cloak, the last stitch complete. The sigil pair was embroidered in silver and black, appearing bold against the darkness of the fabric.

"Nothing can break us." She whispered the words proudly, fingering her work and wondering if she should add the words. Slowly she stood and pulled the cloak over her shoulders, her steps turning in the sunlight and embracing the peaceful warm it offered.

 _To live in the past is to waste the present, you must keep going forward_ , the wisdom stirred deep within her and, while she didn't know where she had first heard the words, she embraced them as her own as she overcame the darkness which had trapped her for so long. Of course this was only one battle in the war, but she would continue to overcome it little by little until she was the victor of her inner demons.

Petyr, who had come down to check on his little bride, paused on the steps and looked on in awe. She only grew more beautiful with each day that passed; like an artist's masterpiece, more was revealed to him the longer he studied her.

"You have an amazing talent, my little pawn." Petyr said quietly, not wishing to startle her as she stopped and gazed into the mirror.

Her eyes shifted and met those of his reflection, "Thank you, Petyr."

The familiarity warmed his heart, knowing he would never tire of hearing his given name on her tongue, and he started into the room, stopping behind her to admire the work up close, "Splendid work. I think I might have you make one for me."

"You aren't worried about tempting them to separate us anymore?" Sansa followed his line of sight to her work, speaking her thoughts aloud.

He quickly looked up to her, "I would like to see them try."

"I wouldn't." She shuttered, knowing what the Lannisters were capable of.

"Are you worried they might succeed?" Petyr asked quietly.

Her eyes sharply looked up to his, "Never. I just don't want to be on the receiving end of any more of their cruelty. I refuse to lose another child so that they can continue in the Game."

Petyr nodded slowly and reached up to caress her tired face, the purple bruises, reminders of her continued night fits, lingering under her beautiful eyes.

 _I pray to every god that they might allow you another child_ , he thought, resting his head against hers, _To return just a piece of your innocence back and give you joy._

"I won't let that happen." He promised, "I have already secured us alternative living quarters and my little birds are keeping their ears open for any further plots."

Sansa sighed and leaned into his touch, her body snuggling against his. Petyr wrapped his arm protectively around her and tried to ignore the stirring within him as his body recalled how long it had been since he had fully shared her bed. For years he had gone without feeling any desire for intimacy; now his thoughts were consumed by a need to feel her close.

A woman's intuition had a smile tugging at Sansa's lips, "Thank you for being so patient with me."

He smiled into her hair, knowing exactly what she meant, and took in the sweetness of her smell, "It is no trouble at all. Besides, it's easier to just watch each other's back without adding an additional one." Petyr offered as he pulled back, not wishing to tempt himself any further.

Of course his tone had given away his sorrow for the lost child but he was still torn as to whether to tell her that he shared in her pain or to keep it to himself so as not to bring it up and cause her further agony.

He hadn't had as long as Sansa had to grow attached to the idea of a child of their own but that didn't mean his longing to see the best pieces of themselves gifted to a beautiful babe wasn't as strong as hers.

Sansa rested her hands atop his and sighed, her eyes wandering out to the sea which drew them closer and closer to King's Landing with each day, "Petyr?"

"Yes?"

"I…" Bashfully she turned her head towards him, keeping her eyes lowered, "I love you."

He cupped her face, his smile having never been brighter, as he looked to her eyes to see the spoken words come to life. He wasn't disappointed.

"P-Petyr…" Her voice was softer than any whisper and her eyes looked anywhere but his face as an uneasiness etched into her delicate features, "What if…what if I can never…"

"Shh, shh, my little one." Petyr smiled, his thumb stoking circles into her warmed cheek. With a quiet sigh, he leaned his forehead against hers, "There is nothing I need more in this world than you. I would give my life and everything I have achieved in the Game and anything I could possibly gain in it to save you. You have to know that. I do not blame you for the child's passing; I only give thanks to the gods that they were kind enough to let you live through it."

Sansa's pulse began to race, a small smile growing on her lips as he said the words she most needed to hear.

As a girl she dreamed of hearing those words of affirmation from a knight in shining white armor. Oh, how naïve had she been.

Only now did she realize that a knight in shining armor was nothing more than a man who hadn't seen battle and knew only how to spin great tales with his tongue; Joffrey would fall in this category. An honorless arse who had money to buy shiny metal to build his armor but no courage to put it to the test.

No, her knight had been to battle and his armor was dulled and dented by all the tests it had withstood. Only a man of valor could take so many hits and still be standing.

She herself had seen the price Petyr had paid to keep going in the Game, to just survive on his own in this world, and now here he was saying he would give it all up for her.

A knight in shining armor was nothing more than a boy; her mockingbird was a man. Of course he hadn't always played for honor – what man truly had? – but he was now, and that made all the difference.

"You will never leave me?" Sansa breathed, her eyes showing the fear she hid deep inside of her.

Petyr firmly took hold of her head, lowering his so he could look her straight in the eye. He could see the ghosts of her family pass before her dulling sea orbs. The girl had been abandoned one time too many by the people she had loved and trusted; not just her family but the Lannisters and other Houses in the Game. The fear of abandonment would be a demon she was not soon to overcome. Maybe one day, on her own, she could, but not this one. Today she needed him to fight for her.

"Never will I leave you. Until my dying breath and even after, I will stand by you." He swore, his eyes hardening to an unwavering grey stone, "On our vows beneath the Heart Tree in the Red Keep, I will never betray you or stray from your side. I will watch over you and protect you from this day until my last. You are mine, and I am yours."

"You are mine, and I am yours." She repeated the words in a breathless whisper, tears tracing down her face as she brought her hand up to cover his, "And I will watch over you as a direwolf does for any member in her pack."

"I wish I could say the same for my sigil, but mine holds much less weight than yours." He smiled, coaxing one out of her along with a taste of her musical laughter, "I'm afraid all I can do is sing you a song."

"And you can't carry a tone to save your life at that." She continued to giggle, wiping away her tears.

Petyr's brow knit, not sure if he had ever sung around her but not willing to take away her joy.

"You hum while you work and it is _always_ off pitch." She explained, moving to rest her hands on the waist of his coat and hiding her face in the crook of his shoulder. Sansa felt untouchable in that moment; nothing could break her with Petyr by her side.

Petyr savored the moment a while longer before he fingered the thick cloak she still wore, "Shall you wear this when we enter King's Landing or do you have a particular moment you are saving it for?"

"No, I will be wearing it when we reach port." Sansa stood back and picked up the edges, crafting them into wings, and spun around, "I want Cersei to know she will never be able to cage me again. This little _dove_ —" Her nose wrinkled at the pet name, "—of hers has broken free of her and has no intent on returning. Ever!"

Petyr leaned back, giving into the merriment, and smiled, "Ahh, little pawn, fly as high as you can and as far away as you can to keep the joy you have found. Never let any of us take it from you."

"Only if I get to take my mockingbird with me." She quipped back, her eyes bright and having forgotten their ghosts for now, "Will you go with me?"

"Always."

XxX

The menacing, golden towers of King's Landing came into view early the next morning. Petyr and Sansa stood on the desk, leaning out over the rail and feeling the cool breeze of the sea.

"Are you ready?" Petyr asked, looking to her from the corner of his eye. She was dressed in a victorious blue to match the new cloak. Her was hair braided in a Northern style with silver ribbon throughout, casting her a crown of fire and ice. Her head was held high, as if preparing for battle.

His eyes lingered for a time on the mockingbird cuff she wore and he smiled, knowing she had accepted him as hers.

"With you by my side, I am." She answered, looking in that moment to need no one put herself. Petyr smiled, though, appreciating her words.

"You are not wearing your brooch." Sansa commented, her eyes still locked on the castle.

"I am going to have a new one crafted once we are back in the city of our new sigil."

Sansa nodded, her thoughts turning, "Did you choose the mockingbird because of the business of secrets you took up?" She inquired curiously, "You give it up with such ease, I'm not sure I could do the same."

Petyr's hand lightly tapping the rail, "No. Actually, it holds great meaning for me."

Sansa turned fully to him, expecting him to continue.

"My mother used to love the woods around the Fingers and, every night, just as the sun was setting, she would take me on a walk beneath the grand trees to hear the song of the mockingbirds. They were her favorites. She—she used to call me her little mockingbird." Petyr smiled at the memory, amazed that he had forgotten it until her question. It was the first time he had shared it with anyone else, not even Cat knew of the true reason behind his chosen sigil.

Sansa reached out and snuck her hand other his, giving it a caring squeeze, "Was she beautiful?"

"Quite." He looked to her with youthful eyes, taken back to his childhood in an instant. Petyr let his eyes wandered back out to the water as he reminisced, the port growing closer and closer.

"I have ordered a carriage to be brought for you. Our new accommodations are on the north side of the city and I do not wish you to tire, there should be room enough for Rook's cage to be carried with you. I will send you on with the luggage and catch up later, the house should be in order already and there will be someone waiting there to help unload things."

"Why won't you join us?" Sansa asked, her brow furrowed.

"I was ordered to bring news of the young lord Robin to the Hand of the King the instant we returned."

"Then I will go with you." Sansa replied, her jaw set.

Petyr began to shake his head, "Sansa—"

"I will go with you." Her eyes locked with his, letting him know he would not win.

"I am supposed to go quietly." He countered.

Sansa leaned forward, "Then we won't take the carriage."

"Sansa—"

"My body is fine, I have ceased bleeding and the maester said I would be well enough to take on small tasks by the time I reach the Red Keep. A walk will do no harm."

Calls sounded throughout the ship as they anchored and began tying off.

"Besides," Sansa smirked at Petyr, knowing she had triumphant, as one of the men offered her a hand, "I want them to see my new cloak."

Petyr held onto the rigging, watching her walk on with grace, and shook his head. A couple of the crew had ceased their working to watch the small quarrel between the two.

"A little advice, gentleman." Petyr called with a light tone to his voice, moving with ease onto the plank as he watched his wife continue down the dock, "Never marry a Stark, they only bring you trouble."

The captain burst out with a deep laugh and the crew followed suit.

"Aye, but are they worth it, my lord?" An old seaman called.

Petyr looked after his fierce direwolf and nodded, "Aye, they are."

XxX

Cersei was poised by her window, lazily leaning against the cool stone. With a drink in hand, she smirked, "It seems our little dove won't allow her wings to be so easily clipped." She mused aloud, seeing the pair appear over the horizon. Sansa kept close to Littlefinger's side, her arm entwined with his, and chatted comfortably in his ear as they made their way to the castle. It was as if the gods themselves were sewing the two together before her eyes; one life, one heart. Nothing looked as if it could separate them.

 _Everyone has a weakness, a point at which they will break their word. I will find that cornerstone and smash it before they can build up their fortress any further_ , Cersei thought darkly.

"Why are you so interested in tearing down the poor girl? You treat her as if she is the cause of all your suffering." Jaime asked, lounging in his chair with his feet propped on the table and drink in hand, "Is she really that significant?"

"She is the Key to the North." Cersei chided, turning sharply to her twin, "We only gave her to Littlefinger in hopes that it would lessen his thirst for power and give us an in to what he had planned."

"You really thought she would play for your side?" Jaime chuckled, unable to believe his sister, "She despises the Lannister name."

"Our side. And, I don't need her to like me; I just need her to crush him."

Jaime reached for the wine to refill his goblet, "And, how do you propose we do that, sister?"

"There are ways, dear brother." Her eyes darted to Jaime, admiring the handsomeness he still held as a knight, before looking back to the older player and his young pawn, "There are ways."

XxX

Petyr patted Sansa's hand, which rested in the crook of his arm, as they started up the last steps, "Tywin will wish to speak to me privately, are you going to be alright alone for a few minutes? I will make sure to be quick."

Taking a steadying breath, Sansa nodded.

The guards stepped up and opened the door as the pair entered the throne room. The youngest of the two posted looked after Sansa with a touch of lust to his eyes but he was quickly corrected and hurried to resume his station when he caught sight of the sigil embroidered boldly on her back.

Petyr leaned into her, his lips almost buried in her hair as he whispered quietly, "I think I will have to have you make me one of those cloaks; it inspires much more fear than my mockingbird. It was a brilliant idea, combining the two, and amazingly executed. Very well done, my little pawn."

Sansa gifted Petyr a small smile and lightly squeezed his arm, blushing at the praise.

"Ahh, Lord and Lady Baelish." Tywin stood off to the side of the looming Iron Throne, dressed in black, "I trust you had a safe trip?"

"Indeed, Lord Tywin, it was a very pleasant journey." Petyr inclined his head in respect.

"I hope you bring good news with you? It has been quite a dark time since you left."

"I bring excellent news."

"That is wonderful to hear." Came a third voice, one Sansa knew all too well and could barely stiffen a shudder at.

Cersei came from the shadows of the corridor and stopped by the small group, her red dress menacingly pooling around her like the blood of her enemies, "My Lady Baelish, you are as radiant as ever. Marriage suits you." Sansa could hear the torment dripping in her voice but she took comfort in the protection her new name held. Cersei could never touch her again.

"Indeed, my lady. I couldn't have asked for a better husband than Lord Baelish." Sansa turned to her, reaching out and gently touching her husband's arm, "The gods have blessed me in abundance."

Petyr smiled down to his wife, who returned the gesture, as he tucked his hands into his pocket, trying to hide his sheepishness at the unaccustomed praise he was receiving before the Hand of the King and the Queen Regent.

"Quite." Cersei said through her teeth, her eyes darting between the pair, "I pray they bless you with many sons." She chanced, seeing if she could strike a nerve.

"Oh, they will." Sansa smiled, her chin held high and thanking the gods that Cersei knew nothing about her miscarriage, "And daughters too. We just have to give it more time; I have heard it can take a while to fill your house with little ones. It took my own mother a year before she was with her first child."

Cersei wrinkled her brow, her nose twitched, "Is that a new cloak?"

"Yes, I made it myself." Sansa stepped back and turned around, showing off its beauty, "I had to do something to keep busy while at the Eyrie. I can only play in the snow for so long."

"That is quite a…talented little wife you have there, Lord Baelish." Tywin offered, a brow raised as he looked at the young girl and the new sigil on her back. His eyes flitted back to his fellow player, questioning just how much sway the girl held over him.

"Indeed. It seems I have been blessed by the gods as well."

Tywin turned to him with a bemused look, "I didn't take you as a religious man?"

"Amazing what can happen when one settles down." Petyr replied in step, his famous smirk in place.

The Hand of the King inclined his head, "Indeed. Well, shall we discuss your report in private?"

Petyr let his worried eyes dart to Sansa, who continued to smile despite the fear that erupted within her.

"No need to worry about your lady wife, Lord Baelish." All in the room turned to look at the newcomer.

Jaime smiled as he walked down the stairs, his golden hand cradled in the other, "The Tyrells just sent word that they are hoping for a short visit before you leave for your new residence. I offered to escort the Lady Baelish there myself."

 _Oh, the Tyrells sent a servant? Where have I heard that before?_ Sansa thought darkly as she worked to keep her eyes from narrowing.

A brilliant smile brushed her lips, impressing all those who watched her, "That is very kind of you, Ser Jaime." She turned back to Petyr and quickly took his hand, "I will meet you outside after you are done, my lord. The sun will do me some good." Her eyes spoke the words she couldn't; letting him know she would be alright.

Petyr gave a quick nod and reluctantly released her hand as she took it back. Tucking her hands into her sleeves, she started towards the door with Jaime following respectfully behind her.

XxX

Jaime let his eyes quietly linger on the young Stark, who was looking around the garden to see what had changed, "Did you enjoy your time at the Eyrie?" He asked, his eyes darting to her new cloak and smirking.

 _What a strong little one she has turned out to be_ , he thought amused.

"Quiet. I have missed the snow." She answered politely.

They continued on for a ways, their feet familiar with the old paths.

"I must have you make a cloak for me with the Lannister crest, your work is stunning." Jaime complimented, eyeing the skilled stitches.

"It would cost you a pretty penny." Sansa replied, a soft smirk on her lips.

Jaime looked to her, caught up by her nature, "You sell your work for pennies?"

"No, I sell my work for 200 Gold Dragons and two pennies." She jested, letting her eyes playfully shift to the side.

She had heard of the great Jaime Lannister and his flirtations with women who were too stupid to know they could never have one of the King's Guard. Sansa wasn't interested in his attention but she was tempted to test her hand at manipulating others.

"Fair enough when you factor in the fabric, thread, and time." He rose a brow, "When can I put my order in?"

"As soon as I have the Dragons in hand. You can give me the pennies after I have the finished product for you." Sansa toyed, keeping her eyes forward and head high, proud of how far she had come.

"I can deliver them to you tonight, my lady. Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"No, my husband and I will be taking a down night at home to recover from our long journey and ready our new home."

"It must be so dull to have an infirm husband, one that is twice your age and as boring as a book. Do you not get to do anything fun anymore?"

Sansa scoffed, keeping her eyes easy and tongue silent all the while wanting to tell him off using every word she had learned aboard Petyr's ship.

"Come now." Jaime hopped in front of her, stuttering her steps, "His wealth is blinding but it can only distract you so much from his homely appearance and greying temples. Truly, he can't be that good of company?"

She hid behind her smile, understanding now why Petyr had not given her a dagger, "H-he takes care of me." She stuttered, adding authenticity to her Game and knowing anything she said would find its way back to Cersei. Inwardly she smiled, knowing she could have a bit of fun with this.

"Littlefinger only takes care of himself." Jaime replied with a roll of his eyes, his voice sickly sweet, "The sooner you learn that, the better off you will be."

"What would you advise then, Ser Jaime?" Sansa stepped around him and continued on, knowing the Tyrells small alcove would be just around the next corner.

"Find someone who can look out for you." He called, staying where he was and watching her go, "An old mockingbird will never be able to protect you like—"

Sansa turned around, making sure her new crest could still be seen, "Like a lion?"

He inclined his head smugly, letting his intrigue spark in his eyes, "My lady."

She returned with a perfect curtsy, "My lord." Sansa continued on, feeling like she had held her own quite well, "Oh, and do remember your payment the next time we meet."

"I will." Jaime called after her, sad to see his playmate go.

Sansa's steps hurried once she was around the corner and her eyes started looking all around for Margaery, who she found almost instantly tending to her roses.

"Sansa!"

The girl rushed toward her and flung herself into her arms, not caring who saw. Tears began to well up, her strength waning in the protective arms of her friend.

"Shh, shh, love. You are safe here." Margaery cooed, brushing her hair, "Let us sit." The almost-queen dismissed her ladies and led Sansa to a seat by her grandmother.

"Would you care for some lemon tarts?" Olenna offered, her face gentle as she held out the plate.

"No, thank you. I can't stay long, Petyr is giving Lord Tywin a report of our trip and he said it wouldn't take long." Sansa explained, drying her eyes as she found her smile. Nothing was more healing than being in the company of true friends.

"You must join us for the mid-meal tomorrow. We have so much to catch up on!" Margaery reached out and gently took her hand, stealing a smile from the girl.

Olenna leaned back in her chair, her old, crooked finger tapping her once petal like lips as she studied the girl, "Your cloak is new, as is the crest on the back."

Margaery knitted her brow, caught off guard by her grandmother.

"Will you turn for us, child?"

Sansa beamed with pride as she stood and turned around, showing off her work.

"My gods, what a glorious piece!" Olenna gasped, taking in the beauty of the cloak, "Much more awe inspiring than our damn rose!"

"Ser Jaime as already requested that I make one for him with his House crest."

Olenna smirked and leaned back, knowing not to underestimate the girl, "And what did you say?"

"That I would be happy to, for 200 Gold Dragons." Sansa smiled triumphantly.

"You must make one for me!" Margaery cooed, standing up to admire the piece closer, "Do you think you could do one of a Rose and Stag? I am tired of the Lion and Stag. If the former Queen can mesh her House crest with her husbands, why not I?"

"Of course, just tell me which colors you would like." Sansa smiled, coming to life under the fawning attention.

"Blue and silver on a purple cloak." Margaery fired off, her eyes that of an excited child. She took both of Sansa's hands in hers, "I will need it in time for my wedding. Oh, I am so glad you will be here for this one! I need you by my side!"

Sansa chuckled, giving her friend's hands a loving squeeze, "Very well, I will start on it right away! For now, though, I should be getting back."

"Will we see you for lunch tomorrow?" Olenna asked.

Sansa nodded, "I believe so, yes."

"Until then." Olenna gave a wave and Margaery gave her a hug before they bid goodbye for now.

XxX

Sansa enjoyed the quiet on her walk back to the castle and lounged lazily on a bench in the shade as she awaited Petyr's return, savoring the peace of the moment.

The grand doors opened and Petyr appeared, his eyes frantically searching for her.

With a loving smile, she stood and stepped out into the sunlight, "I am here, Petyr."

His shoulders instantly settled when he laid eyes on her and he hurried down the steps to her side.

"Are you ready to take our leave?" He asked, offering his arm. Sansa nodded and accepted the gesture.

As they began their journey home, her eyes wandered over her shoulders now and then, waiting for when the castle was out of sight. Petyr chattered as they walked on, something about business or the house.

A grin spread on her lips at they took the last turn and the castle disappeared from sight, she hurried to take his hand in hers and rushed towards a hidden corner.

"Sansa, what are—"

She pulled them into a shadowed alcove and silenced him with a loving kiss. Petyr captured her face and deepened the kiss, her body leaning into his.

They pulled apart, resting their head against the others.

"What was that for?" He asked, a cheeky look to his face.

Sansa smiled back up to him, moving his hand to her lips and giving it a chaste kiss, "I want you to know that I missed you." Her eyes fluttered up to gaze at him through her lashes, "I want you to know how happy I am with you and that I truly meant what I said; I couldn't have asked for a better partner than you." She whispered to him, her eyes closed as she dismissed everything Jaime Lannister had said to her, "Truly, I do."

His face beamed, "I should go to meetings more often."

Playfully she wacked his shoulder and they continued on their way; leaning into the others side, like newlyweds often do, as they went on.

XxX

"What do you think?" Petyr asked, his eyes cautiously watching her as she explored their new home. He had found them a small, stone house just a couple streets away from the brothel with a large grassy yard planted in the back and a tree Sansa could pray under.

Sansa smiled as she took a turn of the room, looking at the different pieces, "It is perfect, I don't even remember that I am in King's Landing."

Petyr breathed a sigh of relief, "Very good."

"Where is Rook?" She asked

"In the bedroom."

Sansa's steps started towards the only closed door and carefully opened it. Her eyes looked around in wonder. Simple though it was, it was filled with vibrant colors which the sun caught as it streamed in through the window. The bed was freshly made and Rook was softly cooing in his corner.

"Did Shae bring my things down from the castle?" She asked over her shoulder, trusting Petyr would be there.

Petyr began fidgeting with his cuff as he started into the room after her, "There…there is something I need to tell you."

Sansa tensed, knowing nothing good could follow and already guessing what he meant to say.

"Shae has not been seen in a week, since the night Tyrion escaped."

"He escaped?" Sansa turned sharply on her heel, caught off guard by the news.

Petyr nodded, "Tywin informed me of the events this afternoon."

A soft sigh escaped her mouth as she fell back on the bed, her hands resting on the fresh mattress.

"Does it upset you? That he escaped, that is."

"No, I know Tyrion didn't kill Joffrey." She stated confidently.

Petyr moved closer to the bed, his head inclined curiously, "And, how did you come to this conclusion?"

"It isn't in his nature." She replied, "He's also too smart to poison him at a wedding which he would be attending." Sansa reached up and gently stroked Rook through his cage, "But, someone who was far enough away at the time could have planned it." She turned to him with knowing eyes. "How many murders have you had a hand in, my lord husband?" She asked, a sarcastic note to her voice.

"53." Petyr answered. His stomach twisted, questioning whether now was the time to tell her about her father or not. He moved to the desk in the corner, nervously pulling at his cuff.

"You made a move without me." She replied, the hurt evident in her words.

"I made it long before we began playing together." He defended gently, turning back to her.

"I get to make a move then." She replied, her eyes lingering on her clasped hands.

Petyr gave a nod of his head, "Very well."

"Jaime Lannister and Margaery have asked that I make them cloaks, they will pay me 200 Gold Dragons for them." Sansa said, her voice a whisper, "And I will be meeting with the Tyrells for my mid-day meal tomorrow."

"That is hardly a move, little pawn." Petyr replied easily, moving to lay on the bed; his body tired and his mind weary.

 _No, now is not the time to tell her,_ he thought, knowing he didn't want to fight right then.

"I just wanted to let you know what I was planning." She replied, the spite hard not to notice.

Petyr winced but nodded again. His surprise surfaced when she unclasped her cloak, tossing it to the foot of their bed, and joined him.

"You aren't mad at me then?" He asked, wrapping his arm around her and drawing different shapes on her shoulder.

"I am, but not a significant amount." She replied, curling into his side and closing her eyes. The soft sounds of the busy city drifted into the room like whispers as the warm breeze stirred, lulling them into a quiet doze.

"My aunt almost gave you a son." Sansa stated, breaking the peaceful silence.

The line pierced him and Petyr winced, knowing they hadn't talk about Lysa since that night.

Sansa lifted her chin to rest on his shoulder so she could see his face, "Did you know?"

Reluctantly, he nodded, "I found out a couple years after it had happened." Caringly he brushed back her hair.

"Were you devastated?" She asked, resting her head back against his heart and closing her eyes.

"No." He answered.

Sansa rose a brow and kept quiet, hoping he would continue.

"I didn't love Lysa, didn't much like her if I am being honest, and I would have been required to marry her if she had the child." Petyr replied, remembering the possessive way she was and how crazy she could be, "I learned that day to curb any fleshly desires I had; not only because I would chance losing everything I had gained in the Game but because it wasn't worth being with someone I didn't love and never could."

Sansa considered the words and slowly nodded, another question sparked, "Would you hate our child if I died giving birth to him like Lord Tyrion's mother? Lord Tywin always looks at him with such disgust."

Petyr considered the question, "No, I don't think I would since that would be the last piece I would have left of you." He brought his other hand up to hold Sansa tightly to his side, the fear of a life without her stirring his nerves. He buried his head into her hair and muttered, "Another reason I am alright never having children, I don't think I could live without you."

Sansa lit up at his words even as she sighed, "But, don't you want a little piece of you and me running around? A boy you could teach to ride…"

Petyr smirked, thankful for the distraction, "I've never been much of a rider."

"And how to handle a bow and sword?"

"I have never been good at those either."

"Or a little girl with big grey eyes and fiery red hair who we could let marry whoever she wanted to?"

"I think I would like to have some say in who she marries, no Lannisters please."

"Just imagine it, Petyr." Sansa cooed, caught up in her dreams and gazing up at the blank ceiling, painting the scenes out, "Our little brood in our home."

He followed her line of sight and smiled, giving into her daydream, "I guess that wouldn't be too bad."

"Do you know something?" Sansa gave a wicked smile as she looked up.

Petyr returned the look with a smug grin, "I know a lot of things."

Youthful energy spurned her forth and she straddled her husband, her nose nuzzling his, "My septa always told me 'practice makes perfect'."

"I don't think this is what your septa meant." He mumbled as her lips captured his. Petyr didn't need any more encouragement, though, to deepen the kiss and enjoy the afternoon with his bride.

XxX

Petyr was the first to stir, a childish smile on his face. His arm lounged across the bare shoulder of his wife, savoring the warmth of her body against his, as the morning sun shone in.

His thoughts fondly turned over their afternoon, and evening, and night; taking them each to memory.

Sansa shifted, a soft murmur escaping her lips as she woke.

"Good morning, Lord Baelish." She greeted.

Petyr brushed back her mess of hair and kissed her forehead, "Good morning, Lady Baelish."

"What is on your agenda today?" Sansa asked, her finger ghosting a trace over his old scar.

He watched her movements, his chest raising and falling in time, "I need to check in on the business today, see how it fared while I was away, and then I have a small council meeting."

"Will you fetch me after the mid-day meal? I would like to spend my afternoon with you." Her face blushed scarlet, a piece left from her maidenhood reappearing.

Petyr leaned back in the pillow with a sigh, "I will."

"I have another project I am working on and I need to pick up some more fabric for that and the cloaks, do you think we can go shopping later this evening?"

"Why do you need my company? You are a business woman in your own right now." He jested.

She whacked his shoulder and playfully rolled her eyes as she moved to sit up, "Maybe because I enjoy doing mundane things with my _boring_ husband."

"Boring, eh? That's not what you were saying last night." He chuckled.

Sansa's mouth dropped open and Petyr was quick to dodge her smack. He caught her wrist before she could strike again, "It is not proper for ladies to hit." He chided with a tsk as he sat up, holding her wrist gently still.

"It's not proper for lords to tease ladies over the goings on in bedrooms." She retorted, leaning forward and matching his stand off.

"Forgive me, my lady, for my indecent tease." He offered playfully, "It was not my intent to offend you."

"You are pardoned, my lord." She rose her eyebrows in a silent victory and pulled back, brushing her hair to the side, "I should ready for the day."

"Would you like me to fetch someone to attend you?" Petyr offered, admiring her as she stood to collect her robe.

Sansa cast a knowing smile over her shoulder as Petyr hurried to look away, caught in the act, "I think I can manage on my own, I did survive without a maid at the Eyrie after all, thought I wouldn't be opposed to your help."

Petyr's face lit up and he pulled back the blankets, more than willing to assist her.

XxX

It took twice as long as it usually did to get ready; not only because Petyr knew nothing of women's cloths and how to assemble them but because for every step they progressed they would take two back. Her husband had gone for so long without feeling her close, being so patient and kind with her, that she couldn't bear to tell him no now.

Still, though she was late, Sansa was glowing as she scurried towards the small alcove in the castle gardens.

"My, my, someone looks like a freshly bloomed rose." Margaery quipped, a knowing purse to her lips.

Sansa blushed as she took her seat, "Pardon my lateness. I—I saw some fabric which I thought would be lovely for your cloak on my way here and—"

"There is no need for white lies, child, a bride is allowed to enjoy her bridegroom. More than once, from the looks of it." Olenna waved the excuse away with her hand, giving a playful wink.

"I am guessing you found what you like." Margaery cooed playfully, a laugh on her tongue.

Sansa rolled her eyes but her face only grew redder, giving her away.

"You must tell us all about the Eyrie." Olenna offered, giving the girl an out as she passed her a plate to choose from and remembering fondly her days as a maid.

"Well," Sansa smiled, enjoying being the one with the adventure to tell for a change, "It is high up in the mountains, and you have to go through this _huge_ rocky channel to get to it – Petyr says that is what makes it unbreachable – and it is _always_ freezing…"

They spent the meal in comfortable chatter, catching up on all the time missed. She shared her stories and Margaery and Olenna filled her in on all the missed gossip. Sansa was almost sad to see the sun moving across the sky, telling her the hour was almost up, even though she was looking forward to seeing Petyr.

"Sansa," Margaery reached out and gently took her hand, a heartbreaking softness to her eyes, "I am so sorry about the tea. I only hope you got our letter before any real damage was done."

"It is not your fault." Sansa replied, placing her hand over her friends and nervously looking away, "I should not have been so naïve as to take a gift from a maid who, now that I think of it, was dressed in Lannister colors." She sighed, trying to will herself to lie, "I'm glad your letter got through before anything worse could happen. I…I don't even want to think about the what if's."

Olenna reached over and patted her shoulder, "Dear girl…" She sympathized, knowing there were no words.

"Pardon my interruption my ladies, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery and Lady Sansa."

All of them turned to see the famous King Slayer himself, his charmed smile in place. Sansa forced her smile to grow as he turned to her.

"Lady Sansa, I just wanted to give you my payment." Jaime stepped forward and retrieved a small, leather pouch to hand to her.

Sansa accepted the coins and tilted her head, "I assume you will want it in your House colors?"

"You assume correctly, my lady." He replied cheekily, "So, I _assume_ you will be accepting my business?" He asked, continuing their Game.

"What assumptions are we making this day?"

Sansa visibly relaxed when she saw Petyr turn the corner. Jaime rolled his eyes as if a parent had walked in to spoil their fun.

"Making bets with my wife, Ser Jaime? That is not a very honorable thing, persuading a lady to partake in gambling. Though I am quite sure she would earn more money than she could ever lose. She has a gift for these sort of things, games and the like." Petyr continued, moving to take up his place by his seated wife. Sansa looked up, feeling as if she had an army behind her now.

"No, nothing more than a simple business transaction. I am sure you are well educated in the handlings of money between men and women for services." Jaime replied in turn, having no interested in tact, with a smug look to his eye.

"Indeed, as I also am in the laws that warn other men about trespassing against that which is another's." Petyr answered, stepping forward to face off with his opponent. Instinctively Sansa wanted to reach out and stop him, not wanting him to stoop so low as to lose his discretion, but she kept to herself and watched carefully to see how things would play out.

Jaime smirked, sizing up the older mockingbird and seeing nothing but his years, completely glossing over the wisdom and skills that time had given him, "Wives are not property, Lord Baelish."

"No, but they are under the protection of their husbands." Petyr replied, his eyes never faltering from their target, "What is that old saying? Ah, yes, 'never test the jealousy of a husband who loves his wife'."

"Are you…" Jaime stepped forward, enjoying the Game, "Jealous, my lord?"

Petyr kept his jaw clenched, trying to determine which path to take. He took longer than Jaime was willing to wait and the younger knight chuckled in victory.

"I mean, who wouldn't be? I am jealous that you are gifted such a youthful beauty as a wife…" His lust filled eyes flitted over Petyr's shoulder and drank in Sansa, who kept her face void of anything as Margaery flitted between each person in the group and Olenna watched on in amusement.

Jaime quickly turned his attention back to Petyr, "Lord Baelish." The knight inclined his head and readied to take his leave.

"Ser Jaime." Petyr returned, stressing the knight's place. His eyes slits as he watched the man leave.

"I pray, girls, will you allow me a moment with Lord Baelish? There is something I wish to discuss with him." Olenna asked, giving a soft smile to each of them.

They nodded in unison and stood to take their leave. Petyr watched as Sansa started off with Margaery down the path the Lannister had taken and his nerves grew.

"Lord Baelish, I must speak with you." Olenna bid, her voice taut.

"Yes?" He replied, his eyes slowly turning to her.

"Have you told her about our…affairs concerning the royal wedding?"

Petyr smirked, his demeanor pleased, "She figured it out on her own. A brilliant one she is."

"And…" Olenna stood and made her way towards him, hoping to keep the words between the two of them, "And what about your hand in her father's arrest?"

Petyr jumped back as if burned, his eyes shifting around nervously to make sure no one was there to overhear.

"Oh, you can't seriously believe I don't have little birds of my own hidden within the roses of King's Landing, can you?" Olenna laughed, her old eyes bright, "Or ones which were present in the throne room that day when you pulled Ned Stark back and held a dagger to his throat? The same one you carry with you always?"

Petyr looked to his waist where the weapon lay and back to the elder woman as she approached. His hand hovered above the hilt, not sure what to make of her.

"Have you told her the part you played in her father's death?" She asked again, each word carrying its own weight and weighing heavy upon the player.

He sighed and looked out to the hedge, not wanting to be overheard, "Not yet, a time hasn't present itself."

"Presented itself? My dear boy, you are the reason her father is dead, don't you think she should know? You told him that the City Watch was his only to lead him like a lamb to his own slaughter so that you could further your ambition!"

"No one knew what Joffrey was going to do! I was assured he would let the poor man go! If you had been there, seen the look on Cersei's face – she is a grand player but not even one as skilled as her could fake the shock on her face at her son's action that day! No one thought he would die that day, least of all me." Petyr hissed, his voice louder than intended, "And, if you had been there, you would know that I was not the one that swung the sword!" He defended, more so to excuse his own guilt than to justify himself to the old rose.

"Ahh, but you helped escort him to the scaffold. Do you really not think she will see you as equal to the executioner after she knows the truth?" Olenna pressed, seeing the fear crack in his eyes, "Why did you find it necessary to turn against Ned Stark in the end? The glory? The gold? Or was it something a bit more personal…say, his soon to be widowed wife?"

A breaking twig caught them both off guard and they quickly turned around, worried who had discovered them.

"I—I for-forgot my c-cloak." Sansa stuttered, her face bright and her eyes scratched with fresh tears.

"Sansa—" Petyr moved to reach for her but she was quick to pull back and into herself, her guard up.

She looked to him with broken eyes, her face filling with hate, "You had a hand in killing my father?"

"Sansa, if you will let me explain—"

"No!" She snapped, her eyes deadly, "Everything has been a lie! I should never have trusted you!"

"Sansa—"

"D-don't!" She yelled, her voice echoing throughout the maze of gardens and catching the ears of all hidden within, "Just don't! _You_ killed my father!"

Petyr stepped forward and she moved back again, her eyes warning him to keep his distance. He respected her choice and halted, "If I can only explain…"

"E-explain what, exactly? That you…that you are a traitor to my family? No better than the Lannisters and the Boltons?" Tears of anger and hurt streamed from her eyes, transforming her into misery's angel.

"You…you turned on him when he needed _you_ the most so that you could get what you wanted!" She damned, her voice angry and growing hoarse.

"Sansa—"

"Stop saying my name!" She demanded, her foot stomping into the ground, looking for an outlet for her anger. Her hands clawed at her hair as she took up a pace, trying to sort her torrent of thoughts.

Petyr watched in agony, knowing he could do nothing to sooth her as the world crashed around them both.

She stopped and turned sharply to him, her eyes filling with disgust, "Everything you have ever said to me is a lie!" A darker shadow cast across her face, "You didn't do it for the gold or titles, you did it for my mother!"

"No, I never lied to you." Petyr stepped forward, unable to let her believe the lie she was telling herself, "And I would never do that to Cat, to you! You know that." His eyes darted around as a crowd gathered along the path, curious about the lover's quarrel. One face in particular didn't surprise him; that of Cersei Lannister, who was looking quite pleased with herself.

"Oh, do I?" Sansa laughed darkly, "For your one _true_ love? For a chance to be with her again, you wouldn't kill the one man standing in your way?" She stood off with him, her eyes slits, "She scorned you again, didn't she? She knew you had turned on my father and wanted nothing to do with you, didn't she?" She snapped, her trust broken and her anger unleashed, "Were you also the one behind what happened at the Twins? Did you also take my mother from me? And my brother and any chance the North had of being free of this Southern tyranny?" Sansa rushed towards him, her hand poised to strike but he caught it with ease. She struggled and cursed under her breath, wanting to be free of him.

Petyr held fast to her, trying to keep his hold gentle as she struggled, and leaned forward to whisper, "Sansa, I would never—"

"Who cares for your pretty words and lies which you spin as easily as you breathe? Everything you have ever said has been a lie!" She spat, her body swaying from the stress and starting to give way as she ripped herself from his grasp. He started forward but one look stopped him.

"Everything, every word, every touch, every moment, was a _lie_." Her voice was broken in a mirror of her spirit.

Petyr held his hand out as if to calm her, "Sansa, if I can only—"

"I hate you." The words were soft, like that of a dove, but were enough to break the once great player and steal everything away from him. His heart shattered, his hope gone with those three little words.

"I…" Her anger broke down and sorrow weighed her small shoulders down as she met his eye, letting him see the pain he had created, "I hate you."

With nothing left to say she took off, unable to face him any longer.

"Sansa!" Petyr started to take off after her but stopped, gazing longingly after her fleeing back and knowing she didn't want to be followed.

His darkened eyes turned back to the crowd, "Do you have nothing better to do? Go now, the rumors can't spread themselves." He seethed, watching them begin to scatter.

Cersei started towards him, a triumphant glint to her eyes as she slowly clapped, "I wouldn't go home just yet if I were you." She advised before giving a final smirk and taking her leave.

His fist clenched by his side, wishing he could strike the smile from her lips.

The gentlest hand touched his shoulder and caused him to panic as he hurried to take on the next threat, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger.

Margaery stood to the side at a safe distance, Sansa's cloak draped over her arm, a sympathetic touch on her lips, "Sansa will forgive you." She whispered, offering him the thick fabric.

"No, she won't. She will probably come soon enough to you to change her sides, just as you were hoping. Now the Key to the North will be in your pocket." He mused, taking the cloak from her. It wasn't that he saw Sansa as a playing piece still; he just knew that he was hurt and didn't know where to go from there. After playing the Game for so long on his own, he never expected to have an ally he cared for as much as his little pawn. The crushing break of their alliance, of everything they had built, cast him into a storm of confusion he couldn't escape or make sense of. There was no ladder to be found in this chaos.

"We are not against you, Lord Baelish." Margaery answered sweetly, her voice sincere, "I've seen how much she cares for you, give her time."

"I should have been honest with her from the start." He thought aloud, holding the fabric between his hands and looking at each of the stitches. They weren't as unbreakable as he had hoped they were.

"Yes, you should have." Olenna nodded, "But what is done, is done. Now, go home, Lord Baelish. She needs you."

Absentmindedly, he nodded and started on his own walk of shame through the bustling city, trying to keep to the shadows as the darkness of his guilt consumed him and the rumors spread, reminding him with each step that he was nothing and always would be

XxX


	8. The Countermove

XxX

"Everything is going according to plan." Cersei smirked, pouring herself a large glass of wine and toasting her brother.

Jaime shook his head and took a sip from his own goblet, "You are well on your way to triumphing over a sixteen year old girl with no power whatsoever. Congrats, sister."

Cersei rolled her eyes, her thoughts turning.

"We need to cauterize the wound so there is no chance of it joining back with its severed limb."

"Ouch, too soon Cersei." Jaime quipped, playing up the moment and holding up his golden hand, "Besides, I don't think you quite know how cauterization works."

"We need to make sure that there is no possibility of reconciliation between our little dove and the mockingbird." She replied, frustrated by her brother's playful nature. No one did seem to take the Game as seriously as she did.

"So, what? You need me to keep seducing your young dove? What good will that do?" Jaime asked, draining his goblet.

"It will keep her out of his clutches." She turned sharply to him and moved to pour herself another glass of wine, "I made the mistake of pushing father to allow the match, thinking she would prove enough of a distraction to keep him out of our way, and was wrong."

"That must be a first." He quipped, knowing it very well wasn't the first and surly wouldn't be the last.

She just narrowed her eyes, "I will crush him as I will crush everyone who has gone against us."

Jaime put aside his glass and leaned over the table, his lusty eyes looking up to her, "And, how would you like me to help?"

"Make sure she keeps him cut off. Show her what she is missing by being on his side and tempt her away from his cunning words and sweet promises; it is time for the little bird to fly back to our nest." She advised, her seductive eyes wandering over him, "Do whatever it takes to win her back."

XxX

Petyr slowly made his way towards their house, taking the less traveled routes in hopes that he wouldn't have to face those who were already whispering about him. His eyes spied the familiar door and his steps instantly faltered; not wishing to go any further.

If it had been any other day, any other person, the small, cozy house would have looked warm and welcoming as it beckoned him to take rest.

But it wasn't any other day and he wasn't any other person.

 _You broke her trust, severed your alliance,_ his thoughts snarled, dragging him further into the dark depression of his soul, _Why would she ever accept you? A boy of no means and no morals, grown into a man of ambition and willing to sacrifice everything to get what you want. _But, you will never receive what you want because you will always be nothing_._

Petyr shook his head, desperately trying to clear it, and forced his feet forward. He hesitated once more before pushing open the door and tentatively starting in.

His eyes quickly darted around, searching for his little wife, "Sansa?" His voice echoed through the house. No reply came and he started inside, draping his cloak and the one he carried over the nearest chair and continuing to search the house.

Once he was certain no one was home, he moved to their room, his body weary and eyes tired.

His hand brushed across the different pieces as he took a turn of the room; reminiscing of yesterday's afternoon, wishing for anything to go back to it, all the while knowing it would never be again.

His thoughts recalled all their times at the Eyrie and how happy they had been as he made his way to the bed. If only he had taken up her offer to run away, maybe then things would be different.

Every part of him screamed that there must be something, anything, he could do, but he knew better. Nothing could fix what he had done.

He had made his bed the day he held the dagger to her father's throat and he was paying the price for it now.

Petyr couldn't help but smirk darkly; he had finally gotten when he deserved after all of his traitorous years. The one thing he had always wanted was now snatched away from him just like that.

"Cersei had it all planned out." His eyes lingered on the ceiling, his face downcast, "She figured out the one thing that could crush me and she won." Sansa was probably back at the castle right now, beginning to return to her old room and end the marriage.

He turned on his side, his dulling eyes lingering on the bright window. The day was happy but he wasn't invited to take part in it. He was assigned to the shadows as he always would be; he was born nothing and nothing he would always be, a miserable wretch caught in his own snare.

If his hand in her father's death hadn't ruined his chance with her, his past and what he was surely would have eventually.

Part of him, the ambitious part, prodded at the defeat, demanding he seek retaliation. But another part, one that had begun to stir the moment he had first met the young red-haired Stark, told him that nothing good ever comes from an eye for an eye and pushed him to looked for a way, anyway, to ever earn back a part of her forgiveness. He had promised her a true ally and hadn't delivered; she deserved so much better than him.

 _Annulling the marriage would be in her best interest_ , he thought finally, his gut twisting at the notion, _She will be free of me and I can arrange to smuggle her out of King's Landing, take her to her brother at the Wall. That will be the last time she will see me and she can be happy again. Maybe then she won't hate me completely._

His final thoughts before he fell into a fitful sleep were of the young beauty who had been his loyal wife for less than half a year now and the disgust which had colored her eyes as she looked at him and cut him down with her words.

XxX

Sansa kept the cloak secured around her head, making sure no tress of her auburn locks could be seen. After the fight in the garden she had stolen one of the servant's cloaks to conceal herself and had taken to wandering the streets, lost in thought as she replayed the fight and knowing she couldn't go home just yet.

She ended up in the market in search of a distraction as her adrenaline settled and turned her focused to searching the different booths with dyed fabrics, looking for just the right ones for the cloaks she was commissioned to make, and attempting to keep herself hidden from the gossiping eyes of the public.

 _Hopefully this will all be over tomorrow when another piece of news surfaces_ , she thought, knowing very few things could compete with a lovers' spat, especially one between a Stark and her Mockingbird.

"Aye, may I 'elp ye, me lady?" An old merchant, his hair grey and teeth sparse, took off his hat respectfully and stepped up to assist her.

Sansa looked up with a temperate smile, "I was wondering if you have any darker purple than this one?"

"I think I 'ave just the one." The merchant held up his hand in thought and nodded before scurrying back to his cart.

She smiled as she watched him go and collected what she needed of the red fabric. With her arms full, she started to follow after him. A particular roll of fabric caught her eye and her feet stuttered. It was a vibrant, pure emerald, beautifully dyed and of the finest quality. Never had she seen a more gorgeous piece.

"The lady 'as excellent tastes. Expensive too, but ye must know quality when ye sees it!" The merchant gave a sincere, toothy smile and set a few pieces of purple onto the table. Sansa looked through the different swatches but her eyes kept turning to the emerald bolt.

"I will take 4 yards of this purple and the red." Sansa smiled, reaching for her small purse. As she counted out the coins, her eyes continued to linger on the green. She sighed, "And I will take what is left of the bolt of green."

The merchant's blue eyes widened, his mouth bobbing, "That is quite a costly piece, me lady. 'Eavy too."

She smirked as she fingered the beautiful fabric, "I am sure my husband can afford it." Sansa looked up to him and the man chuckled heartedly, having seen enough years to know the look of an upset wife exacting her revenge.

"The poor bastard, does 'e know what 'e 'as coming to 'im?"

Sansa nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips, "He said he supports my business, now he has a reason to keep supporting it."

"What sort of business does a lady such as yerself do 'ere in the city?" He asked curiously as he set to cutting her pieces.

"She makes cloaks. Beautiful cloaks, the best in all of Westeros." Said a newcomer. The voice was all too familiar to the Stark and she was quick to mask her grimace.

Sansa steadied her smile, though it threatened to waver, and turned around, giving a respectful curtsy, "Good noon, Ser Jaime."

"My lady." Jaime inclined his head, a smug look to his face. He walked up to the booth, his proximity too close for comfort, "So your way of getting back at the old mockingbird is to spend all of his money on fabric?" Jaime whispered in her ear, his eyes lit with flirtation.

"I do not wish to get back at him." Sansa replied, her voice low, before turning to the merchant, "Do you have thread?" She smiled sweetly and he nodded, leaving to fetch the product and allowing them to talk in private.

"Are you going to leave anything in the shop or do you plan on buying it all?" Jaime asked, leaning against the sturdy wood and fingering the red cloth.

"I just need some thread and then I will be done. Lady Margaery ordered a cloak as well and I am almost out of the colors she asked for."

"And the red one is for me?"

"It tis." Sansa let her head lower and her hair fall forth to veil her face, a faux sense of coy.

"You are quite calm for a young bride whose marriage is crumbling like a sport for all to see." Jaime leaned back into her to whisper, "I'm pretty sure they could hear you in Essos."

Sansa turned away with a blush, "Why are you here, Ser Jaime?"

"I was sent to make sure you were alright. My sister was present when…well, when what happened, happened." Jaime finished with a shrug.

"She is so kind to look out for me as she does, like a mother lion looking out for her cubs." Sansa could feel the bile rise in her throat and forced herself to swallow it back down, "I believe she is the only one who truly looks out for me here."

Jaime rose a brow, his arms crossing over his gleaming armor, "Indeed. So…" He picked up one of the babbles and started at it, not sure of its use, "What will you do?"

"What will I do?" Sansa repeated, turning to the King Slayer.

"Will you go home to the old mockingbird or would you prefer returning to the castle with me?" Jaime offered, "There might be time left to annul the marriage."

Sansa couldn't hide the bright flush which flew across her face, blending it with her hair.

It was not lost on the Lannister but he pretended not to notice and kept tossing the cushion between his hands, "There is still time to find you a more suitable husband; one more deserving, who will be equal to your standing and can give you a castle for a home. One who can, well, give you children to say the least. Strong ones. Only someone of a noble House can give you that, blood of lower Houses is known to be weak and poor." His playful leer showered her that he meant more than the surface of his words; he felt superior to Petyr in every way. Though Sansa couldn't refute his House's old name, she knew he was no better than the mockingbird.

"I was worried about you too, my lady." Jaime stepped closer, dropping his head to look at her.

Her smile was concealed deep within her as she continued to look at the fabric, knowing Petyr wasn't as inept as the King Slayer in at least one way: he would never give away his hand in such a clumsy and risky manner.

 _Jaime Lannister is almost making it too easy,_ she thought, trying to keep the smirk from her eyes.

"That…that is very kind of you, Ser Jaime." She looked up to him through her lashes, "I believe I would be lost without you, as well."

"I will always be here for whatever you need, whenever you need it." Jaime breathed, his mouth sly.

"Here ye are, me lady." The merchant interrupted, setting down the box of threads before her to riffle through.

"I will leave you to your shopping." Jaime leaned in and captured her hand, causing her to jump slightly, "I am sure I will see you again soon, Lady Sansa. If not on an invite to dine with us, then when I come to collect my purchase. And, remember, the offer to return is always there." He gave her hand a chaste kiss before taking his leave, those under his command falling in step behind him.

Her eyes watched him go, making sure he caught her staring after him, before turning back to the box, repulsed by the meaning behind his words.

The merchant stood, dumbfounded and shaking, "Y-yer Sansa S-Stark, Ned Stark's daughter?" He asked, his voice one of awe and his hands wringing his cap tightly. He shifted uncertainly, trying to decide whether to bow or not.

Sansa gave a small smile and nod, trusting his reverence, "I was." Slowly she chanced one last look after the King's Guard as they rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. She stood taller then, her head high and a victorious glint to her eyes, "But now I am Lady Baelish, wife of Lord Petyr Baelish."

"The brothel keeper? No wonder ye can afford this and are running up the cost…" The older man mumbled, not meaning any disrespect as he thought about why her husband would wish to scorn a Stark Direwolf. Marrying the girl of such a powerful House, traitorous though they might be branded, was a grand honor, why would he chance ruining his good fortune?

"Yes, I suppose he is a brothel keeper." Sansa mused, thinking about everything that made up Lord Petyr Baelish, "A boy of no means or name taken in as a ward, made Master of Coin, now Lord Paramount of the Trident, Lord of Harrenhal, and, most recently, Regent to the Lord of the Eyrie and Protector of the Vale. But see, none of that matters to me." She turned back to her new confidant, a secret smile on her lips.

 _He is my husband_ , she finished in her thoughts, _and that is the only title that holds any worth to me._

Her eyes looked off down the street, picturing the small house at the end of the lane by the wall _. He is my husband and my partner and he spent too many years making plans on his own and was overdue for a lesson on how partnership works_ , she thought with a childish smirk, knowing she had fulfilled her promise to make a move without him as payment for the Purple Wedding, and had succeeded too, all with the help of the Old Rose and her young protégé, _Petyr Baelish will think twice about making a move without me next time._

The merchant looked around, checking for any little birds, and leaned in, "The North remembers, me lady. If you need passage 'ome—"

"That is very kind of you, but I know where my place is for now." She smiled sweetly, making sure he knew how precious his words to her were. Her eyes wandered up to the darkening sky, the rain clouds threatening to break free, "I should be getting home." Her heart raced, knowing Petyr should be home by now and hoping he wouldn't be too mad at her for her countermove, especially not after he heard her plans for the move moving forward.

She counted out her coins and put them back in the purse before handing them to him, "This should be enough to hold the fabric and thread until tomorrow, I will pay you the rest when I come to collect them."

"I can 'ave the fabrics and thread delivered tomorrow morning if ye like, me lady." He replied, accepting the heavy bag with wide eyes.

"That would be most helpful." Sansa replied, finding comfort in the sway which came with her blood line and the strength she was adding to her new name, which still shielded her from the looming castle. Her eyes wandered up to the dark towers as candles were lit throughout them; they could never force her to come back because she was now under the protection of House Baelish, but that wouldn't stop them from trying to tempt her into returning.

Sansa Stark was not the naïve thirteen year old anymore, though; she was a woman with her own Game to play now.

Once she had given the man directions and bid him blessings, she took her leave as the heavens opened.

She was drenched by the time she reached the threshold of her home. Her smile painted across her lips at the title; _home_.

Sansa boldly pushed open the door and was met by the warm air which cast shivers through her cold body. In an instant one of the attendants was by her side, quietly chastising her for disappearing and being out in this weather as she helped her dry off.

"Is my husband home?" She inquired, toweling off the remaining water in her hair as she stood before the fire in a dry shift.

"Yes, he was sleeping when I returned from the market. He hasn't stirred since." The young girl answered, unable to conceal the worry in her eyes as she hung up the wet cloths to dry.

Sansa nodded, knowing the rumors had already begun to spread and the attendant had caught ear of them.

"Everything that goes on in this House stays within these walls." Sansa warned, her tone sharp but her face soft, "I have seen what happens to little birds when they have run the course of their usefulness; you have no name like I do to protect you. It is best to stay away from the Game all together, understood?" Her advice came from a place of love, not wanting to see someone else fall prey to the Game like she had.

"Yes, my lady." The girl kept her head bowed but slowly raised it, "You need not worry about me; the North remembers." With that, the girl gave a soft smile before resuming her chores.

Sansa gave a quick nod and started across the room. Her eyes caught the shimmer of a stitch and she stopped. Her fingers ran over her cloak and she quickly took it up before continuing to their room.

Softly, she closed the door behind her and made her way in as the last rays shone through the window.

Petyr lay peacefully on the bed, his face relieved from any stresses of the day in his sleep. Sansa set the cloak across the foot of their bed and made her way to his side, her hand gently reaching out and smoothing back his bangs.

He stirred at her touch and rolled over, unaware of her presence. Sansa smiled and perched on the edge of their bed, her hands resting in her lap. Once again she reached out and caressed his head, bidding him to get up. He hummed at the contact and leaned into her touch but didn't wake.

Sansa sighed, realizing just how tired he was, and shifted a couple of the furs over her sleeping husband, "I can't believe I pulled off such a show this afternoon; I owe it all to you, of course. You taught me all I know." She brushed back his tousled hair and chastely pressed a kiss to his temple, pulling back with playful eyes, "I bet you regret how quick a study I am now."

"It was easy to get Lady Olenna to play along, Margaery took some work. But, in the end, she was swayed by my need to make a move on my own without your stamp of approval." She fiddled with one of the fur edges as she proudly confessed her successful scheme to the dark room, "Don't worry, though, I didn't make my move just to get back at you. I did it with a purpose." She hurried to promise, as if he were awake and interrogating her, "I could see through Cersei's next move like glass. Her play to marry me off to you with the purpose of securing your support for her House and to keep you from the rougher ways of playing failed. So she did the next best thing she could think of, she tried to seduce away the one thing she knew you held most dear: me."

Lovingly, her eyes wandered over her husband's face and she gently stroked his stubble cheek, "We all know who Jaime loves, and it most certainly isn't me. But, if they think that I have fallen under the King Slayer's spell and that they are gaining ground with me, they will be completely off guard when we stab them in the back." Her eyes narrowed, the words lingering on her tongue as the promise of an assured revenge captured her.

Petyr sighed and turned over, shifting more to the middle of the bed and giving her more room.

Her eyes followed his movement, "I am sorry for how harsh I was; I didn't mean to be, I just let my anger get the best of me." She clarified, shifting to lay on the bed, her fingers still brushing his hair, "I've guessed for a long time that you had a part in my father's death ever since the night you told me that everyone in the Red Keep was a liar, and better ones than I by far." She smirked at the memory, wondering if it still held true now, and looked to his quiet face, "I knew all about you, Petyr Baelish. I had heard every rumor and all of the stories when I said my vows in the Godswood that night. I had prepared myself to allow an alliance to grow between us, a guarded trust of sorts…but that was before I truly saw who you were."

Sansa pulled back the furs and made herself comfortable on what was routinely his side and snuggled into the warmth and security of their small sanctuary, "You are nothing more than a hurt child who has built his walls up to protect himself from the horrors of the world which has scared you time and time again. With each brick laid, you swore to not let anyone in, with each one you tried to reason away the nothingness you felt by making yourself superior and building your tower higher and higher until you could touch the skies. But you know you will never be able to reach it. Greed will always keep you from being content. That is something else you taught me too." She reminded, remembering his teaching on that warm summer day.

"And you forgot one other crucial part; if you construct a wall to keep all of the terrible things out, if you push everyone away in a desperate attempt never to be hurt again, it will cut you off from all of the wonderful parts of life as well." She dropped her head to the side and looked to his tousled head, smiling as she saw the snowy white of his temple meet the rich raven of the rest of it, "You can fool a lot of people by your different masks, but you can't fool me Petyr Baelish." Sansa propped herself up as if she expected him to still be awake and listening, "You think you can play this Game all by yourself from here on out, it is what you have been doing for so long after all, but you and I both know you can't. I'm your partner now and that deserves respect when it comes to all of your plans, no matter how small. I know I probably didn't go about it the right way, and I am sorry for what I said, but I hope you learned your lesson today." She wrinkled her nose like a Septa giving her teach for the day, "I am yours and you are mine, one in flesh, one in heart, and one in soul until the end of our days."

The night settled around them as Sansa moved to gaze up at the ceiling, the last pieces of the sun were hidden by the storm as the tears of the clouds musically fell down atop their small sanctuary. Rook hummed contently in the corner and Sansa smiled, knowing that nothing could be more perfect than this fleeting moment in time.

She dropped her head back to the side and carefully moved to rest against her husband, as if she were afraid of waking him now, and chastely kissed his ruffled head, "I love you Petyr. I have gotten better at lying but surely you could still see the truth in my eyes." She nuzzled her head into the nape of his neck and settled, knowing she was where she was supposed to be.

XxX

Petyr winced in his sleep, the night's torments taking hold as the scaring words played through his head, reminding him of his worthlessness.

 _I hate you_.

The words were sharp enough in his mind to wake him from his sleep, his eyes flying open in an instant. His chest rapidly rose and fell, the sweat beaded across his forehead, and the panic coursed through his veins like adrenaline.

He felt the tight hold across his chest and he quickly hurried to escape it, not sure what to expect. His breathing was still ragged as he rested against the headboard, gazing down at his still peacefully sleeping wife who was unfazed by his outburst.

Petyr pressed his shaking hands to his head, trying to sort his thoughts.

 _Had yesterday happened? Was it all a dream? A torment of the gods for keeping the secret from her for so long? Was it real? If it was, where do I go from here?_ His thoughts were rapid, piling atop one after the next and giving him no break to sort through them.

He leaned his head back against the cool wood and closed his eyes, forcing his thoughts to balance out so he could think through each one.

In the end, he concluded that yesterday had indeed happened and to move forward with his plan to offer her a chance at leaving behind King's Landing in favor of join her brother at the Wall, as far away from him as possible.

Petyr's eyes remained closed as a new thought appeared. Slowly, he opened them and looked to the still sleeping girl.

 _Why are you here?_ He silently questioned, not sure what to make of her presence. He thought for sure she would have slept somewhere else, if she even came home at all last night.

Before he could work it through, a light knock sounded on the door. Gently Petyr shifted the furs he had upset back onto his wife to protect her from the chilled morning before moving to answer the door.

"Beg your pardon, my lord, but there is a merchant here who says he is dropping off an order for Lady Baelish." The young attendant said, still deep in her curtsy, and her head bowed in apology.

Petyr looked back to the bed before nodding to the servant and following her out.

There was indeed an older man at the door, his chart full of goods and his cap tightly held in his hand, "Good morrow, my lord. I am 'ere to drop of me lady's order from yesterday." The man smiled with ease, a knowing twinkle to his eyes, "Would ye be Lord Baelish, by chance?"

"Yes." Petyr answered, his voice cautious and eyes alert.

The man just laughed as he handed him a receipt for the remainder of the payment, "Then I guess I am also dropping off yer investment in your little wife's business."

Petyr took the paper and hurried to look it over as the man started to order his men to begin unloading. Petyr stepped back, watching with a gaping mouth as the boxes were brought in.

"I added a few other pieces, some fabrics and buttons, thread and a few other things me wife picked out for the lady. Free of charge, of course." The man explained, moving to stand next to the lord of the house, "A token of our appreciation, if ye will."

Petyr absently nodded and went into the house to fetch the man's due.

"She is a special one, aye?" The man asked as he dutifully counted the coins to make sure the amount was correct.

"She is." Petyr replied, his tone a forced indifference as he looked at the mountain of goods taking up most of the space in their home.

The man met his eye square on, "Take care of her?"

"Always." Petyr promised the man with a firm nod. Movement caught his attention over the old merchant's head and he narrowed his eyes, trying to make it out through the morning mist.

A messenger with the breastplate of the King's Guard was racing down the quiet street, heading straight for the pair.

"Lord Baelish?" The rider asked before he had properly dismounted.

Petyr tilted his head, his thoughts working, "Yes?"

"Your presence is requested at court immediately." The knight ordered as he handed off a scroll, "Tywin Lannister is dead."

Petyr hurried to take the note and remove the seal, his eyes furiously reading the scrawled lines, "Fetch my horse." He ordered the maid, who rushed to wake the stable boy, "I will leave at once. If you will excuse me, my good sir." He asked pardon of the merchant before taking his leave inside.

With no time to properly change his cloths from yesterday, Petyr quietly snuck back into the house to retrieve his cloak. His eyes caught sight of the beauty still fast asleep in their bed through the open door.

"Will you let Lady Baelish know that I have to attend to urgent business? I am not sure when I will be back." He dictated to the attendant as he moved to the door, pulling on his riding boots.

"Yes, my lord." She bowed as he passed.

"And…" He paused at the door, stealing one last glance of the fiery haired direwolf, "And let her know…"

"My lord?" The girl asked, the nerves framing her voice.

"Just let her know that I will be back as soon as I can." He finished, hurrying to take his leave.

The beautiful black stallion was waiting for him once he stepped outside and he was quick to mount. Without wasting another moment, he pushed the beast down the empty streets and towards the loaming castle.

 _What else could go wrong?_ He begrudgingly thought with a wince, knowing it was a jinx to say but unable to ignore the question just the same.

XxX

Sansa stirred an hour later, her body well rested. Her hand reached out and felt the empty side, in an instant she was up.

"Petyr?" She called, looking around the room as the sun streamed in, "Petyr?" She called again, a bit louder this time.

A knock sounded and the attendant entered, breakfast in hand, "Good morrow, my lady." She greeted as she set the food down at the table and stepped back to take up a respectful stance, "My lord had to attend to urgent business at court this morning, he said he would be back as soon as he could."

"Oh, alright." Sansa reached for her robe to shield herself from the chilly room and moved to the table where her warm breakfast was set out.

"Would you be needing anything else, my lady?" The attendant asked.

Sansa pulled her hair free of the thick robe and let it cascade down her back, "No, thank you."

"Very well, my lady." The attendant gave a small curtsy and started to leave, "Oh, I almost forgot. A merchant dropped off an order for you early this morning."

Sansa nodded absentmindedly, her finger tapping the spoon against the table as she thought, _What could have happened that had Petyr leaving in such a hurry? He must be terribly mad at me to not wake me and tell me what is going on._

Her pulse began to race and the maid respectfully bowed out of the room to give her space.

Lady Baelish fell into the wooden chair, her eyes lingering outside the window to the overcast sky, _I really messed up this time._

She dropped her head into her shaking hands, wondering if she could fix the mess she had made in her pathetic need to get back at her husband.

"How childish am I? To think I need to pay back a mistake with such cruelty. I have failed my family in every way; I failed my mother's wisdom." She breathed, her spirit guilt ridden and close to breaking.

Strength found her soon enough and kept the tears at bay. She looked up to the window, a new determination finding her, "I messed up, but I am still his wife and partner. I will explain my wrongs and ask for his forgiveness and do everything I can to fix this. Maybe, just maybe, the reason I did it will right what I did." Her eyes wandered to the cloak that still lay on the foot of their bed, "Nothing can break us."

Sansa stood with a new vigor and snatched up one of the lemon tarts before moving to the main room, ready to take on what needed to be done.

XxX

Petyr rubbed his tired face as he fell back in the chair, exhausted from the endless meeting. His eyes shifted to the single window in the room and saw the darkening sky. They had been in council all day, of course they would be after all the important deaths that had plagued them this season, but that didn't make it any less exhausting.

They had to go over everything with a fine tooth comb: every move had to be thoroughly plotted out, protection had to be assigned to whoever might be the next target, they had to set up parameters so the murderer could not escape, and, most importantly, appoint someone as new Hand of the King.

Tywin Lannister was murdered. In the latrine, none the less. The great Lannister Lion, taken down by the Lion Imp with a bolt to the heart while he was relieving himself.

Petyr tried his best not to smirk at the picture and he kept his hand over his mouth until he could contain himself.

"I believe that will be all for today, we will come together at the eighth hour tomorrow to set our plan into motion. My guards are already at the docks searching every ship; I believe we will find the little monster tonight and can start planning a trial tomorrow." Cersei dictated. Her eyes were wild, having lost her first born son and her father so close, and her hair was starting to escape their braids, lending themselves to making her look mad. Her white knuckles gave way her hate for the Imp and the vengeance she sought, "That is all." She nodded, indicating they were free to leave.

Petyr Baelish stood to follow the rest of the group out but Cersei calling his name stopped him.

"I was wondering how everything was going at home, Lord Baelish." The Queen Regent asked, stepped forward with her hands concealed in the opposite's sleeve. Petyr's eyes watched carefully, awaiting the appearance of a dagger and wondering how she still had the will to torment him after all that had transpired, "As you know, I was there yesterday, when Sansa found out about your…part in Lord Stark's attempt to usurp the throne."

Petyr narrowed his eyes, silently warning her to watch her step.

"I hope the poor little dove is alright, it must be terrifying to feel so alone in the world." Cersei cooed, her eyes giving away the façade of innocent care she attempted, "I sent a message to her this afternoon; Jaime was kind enough to deliver it for me." She paused, awaiting his reaction. She narrowed her eyes when he failed to deliver, "She is always welcomed to come stay at the castle or join us for any of our meals. I have always considered her my daughter, even after _you_ pushed for Joffrey to set her aside in favor of Margaery, and do dote on her."

"I am sure she appreciates your kindness, my grace." Petyr looked to the window, taking a steadying breath as he worked out his next move. Unable to think with his thoughts pulled in different directions –in addition to everything that had transpired that day, he was still plagued by his little bride's cutting words from the previous day and an overwhelming, but uneasy, desire to move forward with his plan to take her to the Wall – he allowed her to win this battle of wits, "The hour is late, I should leave so that I can be refreshed for tomorrow's early meeting."

"Very well. Sleep well, Lord Baelish." She bid patronizingly, watching his hurried steps towards the door with a vicious glee after he had bid her the same.

Petyr ignored the stares, a sneer ghosting on his lips, as he hurried through the castle and to his awaiting horse. Once again, he took the roads less traveled and snuck home by way of the shadows.

He dismounted a ways away, his nervous breath coming out and stirring the turning air. Winter was coming and he wasn't sure he wanted to face it just yet.

His need to see her won out in the end and his feet slowly started towards the small house, its warm glow beckoning him like a siren's song.

The stable boy met him with a stuttered greeting and took the horse. Petyr gave a small smile to the boy as he continued towards the small, blue door. His hand rested on the handle, ready to push it open. He slowly opened it and a familiar, northern smell wafted out; reminding Petyr of the feasts he had attended as a child.

More confidently, he pushed the door open and entered the warm house. A large fire was roaring in the fireplace, over which a new banner was hung. Curious, he moved forward to look at the piece.

Done in a brilliant emerald, there was their new crest – the direwolf and the mockingbird – stitched in black and silver with their words: _nothing can break us_.

His eyes shifted to the rest of the room, not sure what to make of it but smiling just the same, and saw all different pieces laid out. What looked to become a purple cloak was hanging over one of the bookcases, with a group of different threads lined out atop a stool next to it. Another piece of red fabric was hanging up between a small table and a desk. There were bolts of different colors spread throughout the room as if Sansa had just been organizing them.

"My house has turned into a sewing shop." He mused, his lips softening into a grin as he stopped before the cleared table. He rapped his knuckles on the solid wood, creating an echo throughout the quiet house, and wondered where everyone was.

Movement stirred in the corner of his eye and he slowly turned around, his face caught up in bewilderment.

Sansa stood in the doorway, a towel in hand, and dressed in a simple shift protected by an apron stained with different colors. That wasn't what surprised him, the brightness to her face and the smile on her lips just for him was what caught him off guard.

"Welcome home, Lord Baelish."

XxX

 ** _AN -_** _To Lauralikescatz, thank you very much for your review and your kind words. I wanted to PM you my thanks but you have it disabled but please know your review was what really pushed me to keep working on this darn chapter and get it up this weekend! I think I started-stopped-deleted-started again-edit-delete-started yet again at least five times.  
_

 _To all my reviewers/readers, thank you so very much! You make this story a joy to write and it would be a lot less fun without you!_ _ _Hopefully this chapter is up to par for all of you!_ :)_

XxX


	9. The Wall

XxX

Sansa shifted from foot to foot, her smile nervously wavering the longer they stood off, "I…I made a traditional meal for us tonight, something that would remind us of home." She said, gesturing to the kitchen behind her.

Petyr slowly nodded, his wide eyes puzzled. To Sansa he looked like a man who had seen the ghosts of those across the Wall.

"Will you say something?" She finally asked, her voice trembling as she tried to keep it even.

He took a calculated step forward, never one to underestimate his opponents a second time, "Why?"

"Why do I want you to say something?" Sansa's voice broke before it petered out, showing her growing frustration. Her chest heaved, trying to regain her control as her nerves took hold.

"Why did you make us a meal to share?" His voice was hoarse not just from the long day he had but because he was questioning his sanity. Petyr moved cautiously towards her as if she were a dangerous creature.

The woman should be livid; throwing things and demanding he leave after what he had done. She should come at him again with her cutting words, her fist ready to strike in vengeance for her father's head.

Violence had been his experience with every vexed woman who had crossed his path in the past; it was part of their nature. He could remember with ease Cat pulling the knife and threatening him with it when he had pushed her to her wit's end.

Wasn't it normal for their kind to throw caution to the wind and take out their anger on its source? Of course that was normal for anyone not just women.

But nothing could truly prepare oneself for Sansa Stark and she was most definitely not her mother; she was more level headed and willing to learn than Cat ever was, that alone made her a dangerous piece.

She was a player full of surprises on her own and Petyr couldn't help but grin at the thought; she was playing him, biding her time like she was with Cersei. She was a truer disciple than any man.

He couldn't help but laugh like a fool, wondering how he ever got into such a predicament where he had underestimated a child. Varys' little birds had taught him better than that.

The great player, brought down by his own pawn. Oh the songs they would write…

"What is so funny, Petyr Baelish?" Sansa demanded, throwing her towel to the side and fisting her hands atop her hips in a fit. She stopped her small foot before it could stomp the ground, which would only show her childish tantrum for what it truly was.

He finally looked up and met her eyes, a smile still lingering on his lips, "How I always seem to fall for the snares of Tully women. I guess old dogs can never learn new tricks even if they try their whole lives to." He replied, shaking his head and running his fingers back through his hair, "But, I do have something serious to discuss with you." Petyr turned to the table, gesturing for her to join him as he took back his composure. His hands mirrored a steeple and he gently tapped his long fingers against each other while he planned his words.

Worry etched into her face, her eyes growing as she moved to take the seat across from him. A thousand thoughts ran through her head, all of them equally terrible.

 _I went too far this time_ , Sansa thought, a lump growing in her throat.

"I—" Petyr started and had to stop, unable to look at her, and turned to the darkening window, "I have decided that I will take you out of King's Landing to the Wall where your brother is. We can annul our marriage and you can start anew. Away from the Lannisters, away from the Game and away…" He cleared his throat, unable to add _me_. From the corner of his eye, he could see her pull back as if he had struck her.

"You are a bloody fool, Petyr Baelish."

"Excuse me?" He rose a brow and quickly turned to her, amused by her boldness and the fire stoked in her eyes.

In a huff she stood and marched toward the fireplace, throwing her hand towards the hanging banner, "I know Mum said men were oblivious when it came to house décor, but surely you do know that _this_ was not there yesterday or the day before? Yes?"

He leaned back in the chair. He spread his hand across the table and began tapping his fingers in rhythm with his working thoughts, "Yes." He answered, inclining his head.

A guttural cry filled her throat and she pulled at her unraveling hair, which was dyed with patches of flour, not sure what to do with her pent up emotion. A day alone with one's torrent of thoughts was never good for one's sanity.

Petyr patiently sat back, not sure what to make of her outburst and waiting for her to work through it on her own.

Finally she stopped and faced off with him, "Do you know why I put our sigil above your heart?"

His thoughts quickly turned directions, picking up on her new path and trying to decipher its reason. Narrowing his eyes in study, Petyr shook his head as he tested her words.

"Because we are in this together. You are mine and I am yours, that is what we said to each other and that is what we still are." She started towards him, her mask completed cast aside and the desperation etched deep within her face as tears caught in her eyes, "I was a stupid girl and I made a stupid move on my own, but that doesn't mean you can just send me away like a common criminal!"

Petyr closed his eyes, holding his hand up to stop her steps as he thought through what she had just confessed. He wanted to believe her, but his mind wouldn't let him just yet.

Reason reminded him that she had gotten better at lying, but it also recalled that Sansa Stark was indeed her father's daughter and still incapable of such a grand show of smoke and mirrors. Besides, he could always sense when she was lying in the little things she did, none of which she was doing now.

 _Could she be telling the truth_?, Petyr thought.

Needing to escape the confinements of the chair, he stood, keeping his arm up to hold her at a safe distance as he took up pacing.

Sansa watched with anxious eyes, the weight of his threatened abandonment lingering like a storm cloud. The guilt of her actions was almost suffocating as she waited. She swore then and there to never make a move on her own ever again.

"So…yesterday afternoon…that was, that was—what, exactly?" He asked, allowing his walls to falter as he felt their sanctuary settle over them.

Sansa's shoulders fell defeated, "I'm sorry, Petyr. I never meant to take it as far as I did. I just…I just wanted to get back at you for what happened." She said and he nodded, knowing exactly what incident she meant, "I didn't mean—I mean, I did mean what I said a long time ago but I don't anymore and I didn't mean to say it yesterday."

"The Old Rose and her protégé, they were…" Petyr kept his eyes locked steadily on her, his breathing uneven as he tried to understand exactly what had happened.

Her head fell, her hair veiling her face with shame, as she nodded.

The old player couldn't help but smirk; of course Olenna would go along with it. They must be having a right old laugh retelling his misfortunes at this very moment, "So that was the move you chose to make on your own, just like you said you would…" He whispered, quite impressed despite his hurt.

"Petyr," Sansa looked up, the regret pouring into her eyes, "I never meant to go as far as I did, I just got so mad and—"

"Told the truth." He gave a forced smile, beginning to reconstruct his wall around him. Petyr pressed his hand to his forehead and started towards their room, needing time to think.

Sansa's pulse raced and she quickly followed him, unwilling to let the topic rest, "Don't do that."

His steps hesitated and he turned his head to hear what she had to say.

"I messed up, I know I did, but don't shut me out." Her strength surged and she moved towards him, "You've been doing that your whole life—"

Petyr turned to her sharply, "My whole life is twice yours and the parts that you have been alive for, you haven't been privy to until recently. So I wouldn't presume, Lady Stark, that you know what I have been doing my _entire_ life." He replied, trying to hit a nerve and turn her attention away so that he could make his escape.

He had never had a strong offense but few could rival his evasive skills.

Petyr Baelish, however, had forgotten that Sansa Stark could match him step for step. She was his perfect counterpart, crafted by the gods to torment him.

Sansa fell back into her stance, her mouth slightly open as she lost every word she had prepared. Despite the low blow, her eyes remained defiantly narrowed as her thoughts turned.

Petyr inclined his head, trying not to show how victorious he felt, "Then it is settled, I will make arrangements and we will have you back in the North before the winter sets in." With that, he began to take his leave once more.

"Why do you believe you are not worthy of love?"

The small, sure voice shattered his resolve and torn down the bricks he had begun to rebuild his wall with. His shoulders sharpened, not wanting to give into her Game any longer.

"You want to be happy, but you won't let yourself. I want to know why." She took a step forward, watching his tensing back, "Do you think you are so much better than everyone else and can't accept their lowly praise? Or am I just not good enough for you because I'm not the one you always wanted?"

Wearily, he sighed, "Sansa, what do you want from me?" He chanced a look, unable to keep fighting. The day had been long and the council had used up what little of his mask remained for the day, but that wasn't the only reason for his early surrender.

If Petyr Baelish could be honest about one thing it was this: he loved the girl before him more than the air he breathed, not even his lust for the Iron Throne could persuade him from his loyalty to her.

That was the only reason he trusted her so quickly in the beginning or why he was willing to do anything to stay in her good graces and to keep her content now. It was the reason he was giving into her Game and unwilling to fight her any more.

His love for her foolishly overshadowed everything he had learned over his years in the Game, but he didn't care; he simply wanted her to not hate him in the end. If that meant returning her to the North to live out her days thousands of miles away from him, so be it.

Sansa held her head up and he prepared himself for whatever answer she had, "I want you to forgive me for my terrible wrong against you and the lies I said. I want you to come and sit down and enjoy the meal I have prepared for you after your long day, which I also want to hear about." A timid smile pulled at her lips, scared to hope, "I want you to know that I am not going to the bloody Wall and that I am not a Stark anymore." With each want spoken, she took a step forward until she stood before him, her eyes level with his, "And, most importantly, I want you to know that whether you think you are worth it or not, that I love you and that I am not going anywhere. I didn't mean what I said; I should have never said it." Nervously, she reached out and caressed his jaw, "I could never hate you."

His eyes narrowed as he continued to study her, looking for any sign of her Game.

"Upon the old gods and the new, I swear that I mean what I say." Sansa stated, her eyes unwavering as she let the truth show in them, "Upon the Heart Tree, upon our vows, and upon you, I swear it."

"No tricks?" Petyr asked, unable to keep the question from being spoken. He grimaced, unable to accept his weakness.

Sansa shook her head firmly, bringing her other hand up to frame his face, "No tricks, no hidden motives, no lies." She laughed lightly, finding their strength as a pair in his weakness, "This must all be new to you, people not wanting something from you."

"I wouldn't say that exactly." He quipped, remembering her list. All the same, Sansa beamed as she saw the man she had come to know as her husband returning to her slowly.

Gingerly he reached up and tucked a stray hair behind her ear; she hummed at his touch and leaned into it. He gazed down at her soft face, which was relieved by his gesture.

Petyr wasn't sure what to make of her words, but he knew that after all he had done – all of his schemes and moves, lies and deeds – that he didn't have a right to lecture her on what she had done by any means.

For now he trusted what she said, but they both knew they had a tough road ahead as they rebuilt their trust in one another.

"So, should we enjoy this dinner you have prepared for us?" Petyr replied, looking to the table that still needed to be set in hopes of letting the topic rest for the time being.

"Yes, you can go clean up and I will get things finished." Sansa nodded, accepting his out and ready to show off what she had made. Without hesitation, she began to chatter as she moved back towards the kitchen.

The pair fell into a comfortable routine; Petyr washed up the best he could with the basin in their room, cleaning the grime of the last two days roughly from his skin, as he listened to Sansa talked about anything and everything that crossed her thoughts. It was like she had waited all day for him to return so that she could share her heart, something no one else was allowed access to but him.

He smiled as she went on about the different fabrics and her favorites, adding in the goings on of her day and the others in the house here and there.

"Cersei mentioned that Jaime visited you." He commented, the first thing he had said in a while, as he stepped out of their room. Petyr leaned against the door, catching a glimpse of her from where he stood and waiting to see what she had to say; knowing this would make or break whether he could trust her.

"Oh!" She jumped at the comment, turning around with a triumphant look to her eyes, "I forgot to tell you about that part of my plan."

Petyr crossed his arms and rose a brow, waiting for her to continue.

"Cersei has decided to set Jaime on seducing me, hoping to separate us." She said, the excitement bubbling into her voice as she bounced across the room.

He continued to look at her, "I'm not sure why that comes as such a shock, Lady Stark, we knew they would try to separate us long before we returned to the Red Keep." He answered playfully, remembering how foolish of a child she had once been and reveling in who she had become.

"I am Lady _Baelish_ and you will do good to remember that, Lord Baelish." Her tone and the slit to her eyes told him not to test her again. He held up his hands, letting her know the message was received.

She tossed back her mane of hair and held her head up, "I have been pretending to play into her hand each time our paths cross, not too much of course but just enough to make them believe I am wavering, and I believe it has been working; this afternoon practically assured me of that."

"What, exactly, took place while I was gone?" The upset he tried so hard to conceal was at the edge of his voice, his wide eyes giving him away as he stepped forward.

Sansa looked to him with disheartened eyes at what he suggested, but she knew if the roles were reversed she would assume the same. Hoping to regain his trust, she began going through every painstaking detail from the previous afternoon's meeting up until that day's.

"Jaime stopped by just after Maree left." Sansa started in as they sat to eat. With a wrinkle of her nose, she let her disgust play into her words, "I think he planned it that way."

Petyr uneasily nodded, pushing his food around the plate as his stomach turned, _I will have someone posted at our house around the clock, she won't go anywhere without a proper escort from now on._

Sansa left nothing out; no word said or action done, no matter how trite, was kept from him. Part of him wished she would spare him the more tearing remarks of the King Slayer, but her desperate need to earn back his trust with her openness kept him from silencing her.

He smiled as she continued to give guesses as to why Jaime had planned it that way before explaining what actually took place.

"He asked if you had returned yet and basically invited himself in. It's not like he would have done that if I was a man, or if I had a dagger." She said, her voice taut with aggravation, "I showed him the cloak and the design I had sketched of the sigil. He seemed pleased, but he kept turning the conversation back to you. He said—"

She looked to Petyr as he stare down at his barely touched plate, her heart going out to the miserable boy before her, "Basically he—he just asked if I wanted to stay here and mentioned that I could have my old room at the castle back. He mentioned an annulment again and how…how unsuitable our marriage was and that an alternative arrangement could be made for me." She summarized quietly, not wanting to add further insult to his wounded heart.

Her story petered off as she continued to watch him, knowing he was lost in thought.

"Are you really jealous of him?" She asked.

Petyr let his eyes wander to the fire as if he hadn't heard her question and was instead lost in a thought of his own, but she knew he had; it was just how his brain worked, taking in everything even when he looked oblivious to his surroundings.

"Do you think I would actually choose him over you? Is that what you are worried about?" She pressed, "That I would leave you for him?"

Petyr couldn't help the twitch of a grin that moved across his lips, knowing she had guessed right.

 _How can I not be jealous of him?_ , Petyr thought, stopping himself before he could grimace at how childish he sounded, _He is everything I have ever wanted to be, everything I could never be._

Sansa stood and collected the small, velvet box Petyr had first seen when he came in. Slowly, she walked around the table and came to a stop by his side.

"I know that I messed up yesterday, but I don't want Jaime or anyone else. I thought you would see the play for what it was." She set the box before him and started towards their room. Sansa stopped before the door and looked back, "If I could take it back, I would, but I can't. Just, please know that I never meant to hurt you, Petyr."

Petyr stared at the small box for a while after she left, listening to her moving about the room, before untying the box.

A smile touched his lips as his thumb traced the new, silver brooch. He pulled it out from its case and let the firelight capture the delicate details; the direwolf and the mockingbird, side by side.

Petyr got up and moved to fascine the piece on his hanging cloak's collar. He eyed it admiringly as he smoothed out the thickly woven fabric, the lone mockingbird brooch resting in his hand.

He had been alone for so long that he wasn't sure how to play with a permanent companion who asked nothing of him. The idea that anyone, especially one he had come to know as a strong player, wanted to continue as his ally when so many other options were open to her was beyond his understanding.

Surely she had learned everything she could from him now, why hadn't she agreed to his offer to take her home? What more could she possibly need from him?

Petyr looked to his reflection in the hanging mirror, studying his weary appearance.

He had been used by so many others who he had wanted to love him; he just wasn't certain if his willingness to trust her now was because he desperately wanted someone to return his affections or because she could truly be trusted.

Petyr gently fingered the new piece, his thoughts and feelings finally settling out for him to sort through. And out of all of them, he knew one thing.

Petyr turned to catching a glimpse of his wife readying for bed and smiled as he watched her sitting at the vanity and patiently brushing her hair before pulling it back into a fiery braid.

He finally had a chance at everything he could ever want sitting right there and if he didn't try to be the partner she deserved he would lose all of it.

He had always been the one standing in the way of his own happiness in the past and he wanted her too much to make the same mistake this time. Even if it was wrong to trust her, he would rather risk everything in hope that she might actually love him than allow his childish fear to keep him from trying one last time.

Besides, he had always been a betting man who preferred riskier moves to safe ones. What was more risky than betting on the love of a Stark direwolf?

Petyr started towards their small room and he knew in his very center that he had made the right move.

Sansa was hanging up her dress when she noticed him, "I made you a compress." He nodded and began to dress for bed as she tended to Rook, her surrogate child. She saw him reach for the small bowl and moved to stop his hand, "I will do it."

Petyr met her eye, trying to figure out her thoughts. Her large, blue orbs just gazed back at him, a loving smile on her soft lips as she gestured for him to sit.

Dotingly she set to covering the dulling wound with the mix. He watched her graceful actions, unable to guess as to what motivated her.

"Do you know something, Petyr…" Sansa began, moving to sit across from him as she made sure every part was covered.

He wrinkled his nose as she continued to smother his wound with the cold mix, "I know a few things."

She gifted him a smirk and rolled her head to the side, "Yes, but you know very well that is not what I meant, Lord Baelish."

"Do share then." He quipped, amused by her nature, "I can hardly contain my curiosity."

Sansa set aside the bowl and turned to face him. Her eyes smiled as she reached out to stroke his strong jaw, "I wouldn't be where I am today without you, for that I owe you my life." She looked back and a trickle of laughter came forth, "If I had stayed at the castle and not married you, who knows what they would have done to me? They could have married me to the Imp for all I know!"

"Is that why you stay?" Petyr asked, his face open as he gazed at her. His thoughts added, _Because I am better than the alternative?_

"No, I stay because I saw who you are when you let down your guard." She reached up again and ran her fingers back through his raven locks, the tips of her fingers dancing across the snow, "I saw how much you truly care for me and how great a team we could be, you make me happy and I…I have come to love you."

Sighing, she rested her forehead against his, "I should have remember that when I set to making my plan."

"We all make mistakes." He answered, his voice hoarse as he thought over everything he had done. There was something about the night which brought with it the past's darkest shadows, which could torment even the strongest of men until they thought they were the most revolting creature in all the world.

"And they shape us, but they aren't all that we are." Sansa whispered back, breathing in his familiar scent and finding peace. Petyr sat in awe when he saw the forgiveness for his actions pooling in her eyes, "We should go to bed, husband, you have had a long day."

"And will have another one tomorrow." He answered as she hopped down from the desk and moved to their bed

"What else can you have to discuss?" Sansa asked as she pulled back the furs. She wasn't looking forward to another day alone.

"The upcoming wedding of King Tommen and Lady Margaery." Petyr answered honestly, following suit, "We still have yet to find Tyrion."

"He must be long gone by now." Sansa thought, cooing one last good night to Rook before blowing out her candle.

Petyr winced, his body weary and constantly reminding him that he wasn't in his prime, "Indeed. We sent out riders this afternoon to the four corners on Cersei's assistance. Tommen might wear the crown, but Cersei is truly the one in charge." He settled into the comfortable mattress, relishing the feel of the warm furs surrounding him.

"Winter is coming." Sansa whispered through the dark, more so to herself than him but he nodded just the same. Her eyes watched his silhouette, wondering what could be going through his head, "But nothing can break us." She whispered, knowing he would hear her.

She settled onto her side, continuing to watch him as he dozed, "Good night, Petyr."

He smiled in the dark as he felt the bed shift and her sneak onto his side. Once she was comfortably in her place with her ear over his heart and his arm wrapped protectively around her, the dreariness overtook them both.

He gave her a chaste kiss atop her head and bid her, "Sleep well, my little pawn."

XxX

Before the night's stars had taken their leave, Petyr stirred and carefully moved from the bed to the window as the dawn broke. Sensitive to his absence, Sansa was quick to wake.

She rubbed her eyes as she sat up, "Are you alright, Petyr?"

He looked out as he thought, his arm resting on the top of the frame, "The day feels off."

"Could that be because the day hasn't actually begun?" She replied wittily, snuggling back into the warm furs, "It can't be past the sixth morning hour."

Petyr smirked as he looked out, "Your theory is off, my love."

"And why is that?"

"The maidens of the city have already begun their journey outside the city to gather roses for their garlands." He nodded with his chin to the window.

Sansa opened one of her eyes, "Is it Maiden's Day?"

"Yes." He answered, stopping by the wooden cage to greet the waking rabbit, "Will you join them?"

"I am not a maid anymore." She reminded him, an amused smirk on her lips.

"Nor are you a mother. You should still be able to light a candle if you wish." The instant the words were out, Petyr regretted them and quickly turned to her, "I apologize, I did not—"

Sansa faked a smile which he could see through with ease, "I know you didn't mean anything by it, Petyr." She sat up and pulled on her robe before joining him. Wrapping her arms around him, she sighed, "So you have to go back today?" She kissed his bare shoulder before resting her head atop it, her eyes looking out to the pink streaked sky.

He nodded, "Yes. I'm going to try and set a date for Lady Margaery's wedding."

"Why have you taken such an interest in her affairs?" Sansa asked, trying to keep the jealousy from her voice as she remembered how much a part Petyr had played in her friend's match with the crown.

"Because the Tyrells and I have an agreement, it was an alliance I solidified when I visited their encampment after Renly's death. Margaery said she wanted to be queen, I told her I could make that happen if her family could lend their support to my endeavors." He said, wanting to show her the same respect she had gifted him the night before.

"Endeavors?" Sansa asked, rolling her head to the side so she could look at his face better.

Petyr nodded, "The Tyrells are a very powerful and well stocked House. It is best to create ties before you come to a time of needing them; the Lannisters are learning that lesson the hard way."

"So you wanted to get them on your side before the wedding?" She asked, her brow creased in thought.

"No, that was something Olenna approached me about." He smirked, his hand covering her entwined fingers, "They are deeply indebted to me now."

"Us." She mumbled against his shoulder, her smile tickling it.

"To us." He corrected, watching as the bright sun finally made its appearance, "What will you do today, Lady Baelish?"

Sansa brightened at the name and snuggled into the crook of his neck, "I will probably walk around to see the different festivities. Margaery asked me to lunch today so I will join her around mid-day."

"I will send for an escort to accompany you."

"There will be no need; I can take Maree with me." Sansa replied.

Petyr turned around, capturing her in his arms, "I don't want you out on your own, especially not with the Lannister lion in search of prey."

"Well, maybe if you trusted me enough to give me a dagger, you wouldn't have to worry so much." She answered cheekily.

He looked down to her for a long while, contemplating something, before pulling away and moving to the desk. Sansa watched him curiously.

Petyr pulled open one of the lower drawers and retrieved something before joining her once more. He held out the piece to her and she carefully took the sheathed dagger.

"The titan's head." She said, looking at the bottom of the hilt before pulling out the small weapon, "That was your House's sigil before you took on the mockingbird."

Petyr nodded, "Yes. This was a gift from my father before I went to Riverrun." He explained, "It should be small enough to tie to your arm and conceal in your sleeve, or you can wear it on your hip under a dress."

She looked up with bright eyes, knowing how hard he was trying to not only let her play on her own but to also show her that they were in this together, "Thank you, Petyr." She held it up to catch the light before sheathing it, "You keep gifting me things, but rarely have I returned the favor."

"You don't owe me anything." Petyr answered, moving to get ready for the day.

Sansa perched on the edge of their bed, watching as he went about his routine. After a while she fell back on the bed and returned to the warmth of the covers, a watchful eye still lingering on her husband.

"Would you like me to make you something?" She asked after a while.

Petyr, who stood before the mirror settling his tousled hair, let his eyes wander to her reflection, "You don't owe me anything." He repeated.

"But I want to do something nice for you." She answered, peering out from her pile of blankets.

"You being my wife is more than I could ever want." With a final look in the mirror he moved to the bed and kissed her nose, which was one of the only parts visible, "I will try to get back before this afternoon."

"Alright." She replied, watching him head towards the door, "I love you."

Petyr stopped at the door, his hand resting on the frame and his eyes smiling, "I love you too. Go back to sleep, my love." With his parting words said, he took his leave.

Sansa lingered in bed a while longer before she heard Maree arrive. Begrudgingly she got out of bed and began to change from her comfortable shift. Her thoughts began to consider what she should wear to continue her play and she ended up pulling on a midnight blue color and donning her mockingbird necklace. The dagger was concealed perfectly within her sleeve just as Petyr had said it would be.

She smiled at her reflection, feeling as beautiful as her mother and as powerful as a Stark. Her finger gently touched the necklace, knowing she might be risking everything she had worked for in wearing it.

"Petyr needs to know that we are in this together, I don't want to hurt him anymore than I already have." She explained to her reflection, who looked to be questioning her choice. Holding her head high, she set out to face the day.

"I am going to go for a walk, Maree." She told the young attendant, "And then I will join Lady Olenna and Lady Margaery for lunch before returning this afternoon."

Maree nervously bid her farewell, praying to the gods that she would be alright.

XxX

Sansa breathed in the fresh morning air, enjoying the breeze of the sunny day and the warmth it offered. It definitely didn't feel like winter was coming today.

The festival was in full swing as she entered the marketplace. Bright, colorful streamers and banners were hung up and music filled the air with celebration. Sansa blushed at the attention she relieved from the young lads, who didn't seem to know her title.

"For the lovely lady." One flirted, gifting her a white rose. She took it graciously and held it as she continued her walk.

Tempting smells filled the air and laughter was all around; it seemed liked Petyr had been wrong about what the day would hold.

"A rose for the lady." Someone called to her, bidding her to stop.

 _I spoke to_ soon, Sansa turned to face the approaching Jaime Lannister, who held a small bouquet of roses.

"A rose usually means one, not a whole field." Sansa quipped as he handed her his offering.

"Well, I figured you probably don't get romanced as much as you would like." He replied with a sly smile, "I wanted to make it up to you."

"You do know you aren't supposed to say that to a married woman, yes?" Sansa asked, adding the bundle of red roses to the white one she held. In spite of herself, she couldn't help but admire their beauty.

"Even if it's true?" Jaime whispered in her ear as he circled around her. Boldly, he reached out and lifted up the mockingbird pendant she wore, "Did Petyr make you wear this? To stake his claim? I'm amazed he has allowed you out without an armed escort." He commented, looking around the place in search of such a fellow.

Sansa respectfully moved his hand away, a smiling mask in place, "No, it's a family heirloom and I chose to wear it."

"Family heirlooms without any jewels?" Jaime tsked, "Who has ever heard of such a thing? No wonder they call him Littlefinger."

She bit her tongue and forced a nod as she tried to continue on her way.

Jaime stepped before her, though, and her pulse sped up, "Would you mind if I walk with you for a ways?"

"Actually, I am on my way to meet Lady Margaery and was hoping to have some time to myself." Sansa answered, "I have a lot to think about."

He smiled smugly, moving closer, "Maybe I can help…"

"I don't believe so." She replied coyly, willing herself to blush, "Good morrow, Ser Jaime." She curtsied and began to move around him.

With a gentle hand, he took hold of her arm and pulled her towards him. Her feet stumbled, just as he had planned, and she fell into him.

"Did I make you swoon, my lady?" He asked cockily.

"If that is what you would like to call pulling me off balance, then yes." She replied, pulling back and letting a warning grow in her eyes.

"I hope to see you soon, Sansa." He smirked, his face hovering above hers.

"Lady Baelish." She corrected without thinking, unable to contain herself as she tried to pull herself free, "I really must be going, Ser Jaime."

"Yes, I won't keep you." He released his hold and, once she had let down her guard, he quickly stole a sweet kiss.

Sansa was too shocked to react; her wide eyes just stared at him in disbelief. It was so quick and so light that she wasn't sure what had happened.

"Good noon, my lady." He bid, the guards falling in line behind him as he took his leave.

She narrowed her eyes as she watched him go, her thoughts chiding herself for being caught so off guard.

A familiar face at the edge of the crowd caught her eye and she started towards him, her steps harsh and determined. The man tried to move away but he was no match for the peeved Lady Baelish.

"Good morrow, Searlas." She greeted Petyr's guard, having seen his face enough in passing to know him.

"Lady Baelish." He inclined his head respectfully.

She looked around, making sure no one was listening to their conversation before moving closer, " _Never_ let him that close to me ever again. Am I understood? If he ever so much as touches me, I want you to remove his other hand and send it as a gift to his sister from me."

"Yes, my lady." The man bowed his head submissively once more.

"Find a way to send word to my lord and stay close to me when I am in the gardens." She ordered, her head high as she took up the mantle of Lady of her House.

Searlas looked to one of the stalls where a young boy sat and he nodded for him to go. Sansa took note, adding the boy to the list of little birds at her disposal.

"Shall we, my lady?" He offered, stepping aside so she could continue on.

"We shall." She said, moving on with her escort in tow. She held her head proudly, ignoring the stares of the crowd which were brought about by the mention of her title.

Sansa couldn't help the small smile that lingered on her lips, finding an unwavering power in who she was.

XxX

Petyr excused himself the instant he could, knowing he wasn't needed for the execution of the plan, and started down the steps two at a time.

"Lord Baelish?"

He stopped and turned to a man who stepped from the shadows dressed in black. The man offered him a small scroll, "From the Wall."

Petyr quickly took it and broke the seal. He looked up, "Is this a confirmed report?"

"Yes, the wildlings look to attack within the month from both sides." The man whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure he wasn't followed.

"Will they be able to hold Castle Black?" Petyr asked.

"It doesn't look good." The man answered.

Petyr nodded, his thoughts turning, "I will send a raven to the Vale to send on supplies to the Wall. I am not sure we will be able to send men without drawing unneeded attention to ourselves." He looked to the man, "Ride back, I will have them send out supplies within the week."

"Thank you, my lord." The man bowed and disappeared the way he had come.

With guarded eyes, Petyr stowed the note and set out once more. The walk home went quickly as he remained lost in his thoughts; wondering what else he could do to keep Sansa's last blood-kin alive.

Of course he knew how she followed in her mother's footsteps in hating the bastard, but Sansa had lost so much and even she couldn't withhold the sorrow she would feel if the last of her blood was cut down.

XxX

Sansa had taken her seat by the window, finishing the last stitches of the red cloak as she waited for her husband to return. As she was pulling the last threat through, she chanced a look up. She smiled as Petyr rounded the corner, his head down in thought.

She hurried to set aside her work and get to the door. Sansa threw it open and stood just inside the doorway, bouncing from foot to foot as she tried to contain herself.

He looked up and acknowledged her with a quick nod, "Good evening, Lady Baelish."

She rushed out to meet him and quickly took up his hand, pulling him back towards the house.

"I'm assuming there is something you want to show me?" He smiled, allowing her to pull him along.

"Don't look just yet!" She replied, moving to cover his eyes. He shook his head but gave into her as she led him through the house. She pulled back her hands and he could hear the excitement lingering in her voice, "There. What do you think?"

Slowly, Petyr opened his eyes to see a sewing bust pinned with what would eventually become a new riding cloak. He moved forward and picked up the thick black fabric, smiling when he saw the emerald green lining.

"What do you think?" Sansa asked, touching the fur collar which still lay on the table, "It's not finished, hardly started really, but I wanted to at least cut and pin it so you can see what it will look like. I still need to find a place to put our sigil. Maybe I should just have another brooch made for the collar…"

"I'm sure you will figure it out, Sansa." Petyr replied, turning to gift her a smile.

She looked to him with anxious eyes, "Do you like it?"

Petyr nodded, his eyes taking in the quality of the fabrics and how much effort she had already put into it for him, "I do."

"Excellent!" Sansa practically danced over and kissed his cheek before moving to take up her place at the window once more, "I am almost finished with the cloaks, and then I will set to finishing your ridding cloak. Hopefully I will finish Margaery's the day after next. Oh, I can't wait to see her face when she gets it!" She chattered, her thoughts scattered.

Petyr watch her with amusement as she returned happily to her work. His hand remained hidden in his pocket, the small scroll weighing heavy.

In the past he would have kept the valuable information to himself in hopes that it might prove useful and move him closer to his ultimate goal; the Iron Throne.

But the past was just that and he wouldn't let the selfish ambitions of who he once was rule his present self.

Petyr took hold of the note and began to pull it from his pocket, "Sansa, there is something I need to show you."

XxX


	10. Winterfell

XxX

 ** _AN_** _– This chapter is dedicated to my fellow Petyr Baelish lover and friend, geekcolletionneur. I know it has taken forever to update but I hope it was worth the wait! :)_

XxX

Petyr stood before Sansa, waiting for her to finish reading. His eyes stayed steadily upon her, willing her to do anything but sit there motionlessly.

"They are going to run out of supplies." She finally said, allowing the scroll to roll back up as she set it aside.

"I have already sent word to the Vale to send them whatever they need."

"I—I need to pack." She stuttered, her eyes skirting around the floor as she hurried to stand up. Her eyes finally focused on the bedroom door, her mouth moving as she worked through her thoughts, "If I ride all day and rest for only part of the night, I should make it to the Wall in a little over two weeks."

"Sansa," Petyr took hold of her arm as she tried to move past him, forcing her to a stop, "You can't go to the Wall." He held fast to her shoulders as she tried desperately to escape his grasp, his eyes pleaded with her to listen.

"I have to!" She cried, struggling to free herself. Sansa stopped just long enough to look up to him, her spirit too shaken to allow tears, "He is all I have left!"

Petyr was careful to keep his face void of any emotion, which would give away the string he felt at her words, as he waited for her to settle, "Sansa, you can't just charge into a battlefront. Wildlings have been seen south of the wall and you have no experience in war apart from being a captive. We have no idea when they will attack. For all we know, the battle could be underway at this very moment."

Finally, her eyes softened and tears began to form, "I was so cruel to him."

Petyr released his hold and watched her walk towards the fireplace, "He was a bastard, a constant reminder of your father's infidelity, and you were but a child, no one blames you for being loyal to your mother."

"But that wasn't _his_ fault!" Came her sharp reply. Her arms crossed over her chest as she shielded herself from the demons of the past which threatened to drown her in guilt, "He never asked to be born, to be a bastard." Her eyes gazed into the depths of the flames, "I never gave him a chance, and I might never get a chance to right what I have done."

Petyr watched her tall form as it grew silhouetted by the fire. He was amazed how much she had grown before his very eyes. She wasn't the little Northern girl he had once known; she was a woman of the North, with the noble spirit of a Stark. Like her father before her, she would leave no man behind. But he knew, and he suspected she did too, that she couldn't afford to act on her passion, not with all that was at stake.

"Sansa," Slowly, he made his way to stand behind her. With a sigh he gently reached out and touched her hand, "You are the future of House Stark, the eldest living heir of the line. You need to consider—"

She pulled away, her eyes hardening, "Yes, I know quite well what I _am_. I am the Key to the North. Something to be protected at all costs because of the value I hold and the sway my name gives me. A name I did nothing to earn but was forced upon me at birth just like Jon's. That, and my womb are the only things that prove me useful. It is what makes me something everyone wants, something everyone lusts after, but _you_ won." She spat, pushing him away and moving towards their room. In truth she wasn't angry at him but at herself; both for who she had been growing up and the poor choices she had been making lately.

"Sansa, you know that is not what I meant." He replied, dutifully following after her. Petyr lingered in the doorway, giving her space. For once, he chose to overlook his own wound, the slight caused by her words, in favor of tending to her needs.

She walked around the room tossing things onto the bed, a frustration coming through in her harsh movements.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, "What is wrong, my little pawn?"

A sob escaped her lips as she fell onto the bed. She turned to him with bright, tear stained eyes, "Jaime kissed me."

Petyr's eyes narrowed, his jaw tensing as he tried to control his jealousy, "Yes, I received the message you sent."

"I—I didn't want him to, he caught me off guard." She hurried to explain, the panic raising her voice, "I told Searlas to never let him that close again and I kept him by my side for the rest of the day."

He slowly nodded, letting his eyes wander throughout the room as he sorted his thoughts.

"A-are you mad at me?" The question was loaded. She wasn't just talking about that day but all those that had preceded it.

His eyes came to rest on the fire and he shook his head, not trusting his voice, as his uneasiness consumed him.

The idea that Jaime Lannister had dared to cross such a line in public not only told Petyr that he was losing the power he had worked years to gain but, more importantly, it showed that the Lannisters could do whatever they wanted; they were truly untouchable, and he had underestimated them. He would make sure he never did so again.

He was foolish to think things would change in his favor, they would always hold the upper hand. Just like now, they knew Petyr was no match for the King Slayer, in title or strength. No wonder they continued with their bold threats, they knew he was powerless to do anything to end them.

Petyr knew he couldn't protect Sansa by his name alone any longer; he would have to take her far away, out of King's Landing, to even have a chance at keeping her safe.

Sighing, he rested his hand against his temple, _Sansa's move was well planned_ , he finally admitted in spite of himself, _They might lose their footing if they think the Game is going their way and allow our cunning to beat their brute strength, at the very least it will give us time to consider our next move and possibly escape._

"You are mad." She mumbled, breaking Petyr from his thoughts as she crumbled the shift she held in her hands.

"I'm not mad." He was quick to correct. Petyr's long strides quickly carried him cross the room and he knelt before her, "I am not mad." He reiterated, gently taking hold of her chin and forcing her to meet his eye, "I wish the kiss had not happened and that he had respected your status as my lady wife, but I am not mad at you. Not for that, or anything else."

She looked up to him with her blotchy face, "I need to see him, Petyr. I need to apologize to him for what I have done, to let him know I'm not mad at him. I couldn't live with myself if he…if he—"

"Alright." Petyr nodded, capturing her weary face in his hands and resting his forehead against hers as his thoughts turned, "We will leave for the Wall tomorrow night."

 _The road north is dangerous, but it is safer than remaining in the Red Keep_ , he thought, knowing that this was the best move to make in the end. If only he had listened to her when they left for the Vale, he could have saved her from the pain King's Landing always brought upon her.

Sansa force a smile through her tears and nodded, her nerves causing her to shake, "Okay." She breathed easier, her peace of mind restored.

"Yes. You should get some rest, little pawn." Petyr chastely kissed her forehead before standing to take his leave.

"Will you join me?" She asked, her voice timid in her intimate request. Her eyes wandered up, allowing the fondness she felt for him to stir within their depths.

Petyr's face softened; the affection she carried for him was something he had thirsted for all his life and, now that he had it, he felt complete. For once in his life he didn't want more, her love exceeded anything he could ever ask for and he would never grow tired of seeing her longing for his presence.

He gave her a small smile, "I have quite a bit to get in order before our departure. Plans need to be made, especially one to excuse our lengthy absence – one that Cersei will believe – and ravens need to be sent out. I will come to bed shortly, little pawn."

Her nose wrinkled, not trusting his words. Rarely did "shortly" ever translate to "shortly" when spoken from the lips of Petyr Baelish.

"Very well," She stood from the bed, feeling the threat of loneliness lingering in the air, "I think I will stay up a bit longer then. I would like to finish Ser Jaime's order so I can send it off tomorrow morning and I can at least finish stitching the pieces together for Margaery's tonight."

"Sansa…" Petyr began as her steps carried her past him, her mind made up.

With a quiet calm, she retook her perch and began her work as if nothing had happened, "We are in this together, Lord Baelish. You would do good to remember that." She looked up to him, her eyes giving away her thoughts; she refused to be parted from him this night and nothing he said would change her mind. He inclined his head, letting her know he felt the same, and moved to his desk.

The sky was scattered with stars, following their typical night paths, as time passed. The fire had begun to die down when Sansa stole a glance at her husband, who sat hunched over his desk with his head in his hands. She heard him stiffen a yawn and saw him grimace, his back hurting from sitting for so long.

Setting aside her work, Sansa stood and quietly made her way to his desk, "Petyr?" She asked, her whispered voice echoing through the quiet house.

He slowly looked up with tired eyes, "Yes?"

Her hand ran alongside his desk as she stood beside it, her teeth worrying her lower lip, "Thank you."

Petyr leaned back, his brow knitted in confusion, "For what?"

"For all you have done for me." She answered, her voice quiet as she kept her nervous eyes on his desk, "Thank you for looking out for me, even though it was just as a favor to my mother in the beginning, and for proving ever rumor I heard about you wrong. You have gone above and beyond more than once to make me feel happy and at home, to forgive me for my wrongs against you, and keep me safe. You are unlike any man I know, you listened and respected my reasons for going to the Wall instead of casting me aside like a raving lunatic. And, most importantly," Her face colored as she daringly met his eye, "You have grown to love me for me and treat me as your equal. You didn't have to do anything for me, especially that, but you did."

Petyr inclined his head, playing off her praise, "Sansa, it is nothing—"

"It is everything," Sansa replied, moving around the desk and coming face to face with her husband, "You have kept your word, which is a rarity in the Red Keep."

"It wasn't without personal gain, I assure you." He rebuffed, trying to return to his work. The gratitude she was showing made him uneasy; reminding him of how selfish he had been in his comings and goings, "I promised I would take you home and I will. It is nothing that you need to thank me for."

Sansa reached out and took the pen from his hand, successfully gaining his attention. His eyes went from the pen she held to her gentle face. Lovingly, she reached out and brushed aside his bangs, "As long as I am with you, I am home." Slowly she leaned down and kissed her husband, savoring his taste and the tickle of his scuffle. She smiled against his lips before pulling back, resting her forehead against his, "And as long as I live, I want to kiss no other man but you."

"Good." Was all he could manage, his sweet breath, scented from the mint he had been chewing earlier, lingering around them.

Sansa let the moment linger a while longer before pulling back, "I am going to work on your cloak some, I won't be able to sow the sigil on it but at least you will have fresh riding cloths for our journey. It is the one thing I can do to repay your kindness."

Petyr held her hand loosely as she turned to leave, reluctantly letting it slide through his, "Sansa?"

Graceful as ever she turned around, her face flushed from the kiss and her eyes bright.

"I love you." He replied, letting the words close the space between him. His demeanor changed then; his heart, closed off to the rest of the world, was opened, showing Sansa just how deeply he cared for her.

"And I you." She whispered, holding the doorframe, "I just hope you will believe it one day and not need to feel jealous." Her smile was sincere. She knew, and respected, where he had come from and how much his character had improved, while hoping his growth would continue to an even brighter future. With a final tap on the frame, she disappeared into the bedroom.

Petyr studied the place she had just occupied a while longer, filled with a rare peace, before he turned back to his work. His weary soul was able to breath and, for once, he didn't feel the need to hide who he was; he was free to be Petyr Baelish and that, like the love of his wife, was enough for the time being.

Sansa returned a while later to her nook, having finished cutting and stitching the main body together, and the pair worked in a comfortable silence, at peace in their sanctuary.

As the fifth nightly hour passed and the moon began to set, the pair was peacefully dozing in their respected places; Petyr having fallen back against his chair and Sansa curled up in her nook, blanketed by Petyr's new riding clothes.

The sun broke as Maree arrived and she quietly set to her morning chores. Sansa stirred when the sun began to stream in, bidding her to wake.

"Good morning, my lady." Maree curtsied when she saw the lady of the house sitting up, "I hope you slept well."

Sansa groaned at her stiff neck, "I've had better. Maree, will you tell Philip to have my lord and I's horses ready to ride by this afternoon?"

"Yes, my lady." Maree replied, kneeling by the fireplace to reset the logs for that evening. Her eyes were curious but she knew better than to ask after her lord and lady's plans.

"And, I have a favor to ask of you." Sansa stood and made her way to the attendant, "Something that needs to be kept between us."

Maree hurried to brush her hands on her apron and stood, "Of course, my lady."

"I need you to look after Rook, at your house. My lord and I have some important business to attend and I am afraid I cannot take him with me." Sansa said, knowing her eyes gave away the gravity of the situation.

"I will, my lady." Maree inclined her head with respect, "Would you like me to pack your things? I have your winter clothes stored away and they will need to be aired out before your journey."

Sansa couldn't help but smile at her intuition, "Yes, but only the necessities. We must travel light."

"Pardon my forwardness, my lady, but I have a brother at the Wall. Edd is his name, Eddison Tollett. I am wondering if I might give you a letter to pass on to him?" Maree asked with her face lowered submissively.

"Of course." Sansa answered.

"Thank you, my lady." Maree bowed her head again before leaving to do her bidding.

With another yawn, Sansa turned back towards her nook. She looked over each of the pieces, impressed with how much she had gotten done in the late hour. A sound caught her ear and she turned to see Petyr shifting in his chair, still fast asleep.

She smiled, admiring his handsome face. With quiet steps, she moved to the desk and lovingly brushed aside his dark bangs. Her eyes on their own accord wandered to the list he had made and the different notes on it.

"Take books to Olyvar." She read, tilting her head and wrinkling her nose, "Who's Olyvar?" Her thoughts turned, trying to remember if she had ever heard the name.

"He runs the brothel when I am away." Petyr answered, his eyes still closed. Sansa responded by practically jumping out of her skin, her hand holding her chest in hopes of calming her racing heart.

"I am sorry; I didn't mean to startle you." He answered, sitting up and straightening his rumpled clothes. His twinkling eyes gave away his insincere apology.

"Alright." Her nose wrinkled when she thought of all the beautiful women at the brothel and how much time Petyr had spent there in the past. He could read her like a book and couldn't help but smirk, taking pleasure that it was her turn to be jealous.

"I am going to deliver Ser Jaime's cloak, do you have any errands you would like me to complete while I am out?" She replied tartly, her eyes slits as she looked down her nose at him.

He sat up straighter, not comfortable with the fire she was playing with, "Sansa, I do not—"

"Searlas is outside and will accompany me; Ser Jaime will be training at this hour with the other knights so I will not be alone with him." She replied, her lips touched with a smirk at his panic.

 _Serves him right_ , she thought. The compassionate part of her chastised her short temper, reminding her of the upset she had caused by her last impulsive move and warning her away from another.

Her shoulders fell as she weighed the two battling parts; the envious side that wanted to be petty and spiteful and the tenderhearted part which wanted desperately to make up for what she had done and fix the bond she had broken.

"A-actually," She began, swallowing her pride and growing apologetic for the upset she had almost begun, "I will send Searlas to deliver the cloak and collect what is due. I'd like to get more work done on Margaery's before we leave." She hurried to add, trying to salvage what little ego she had left.

Petyr knew what she was doing and inclined his head in silent gratitude, "Very well."

Sansa collected the cloak and left to give Searlas his instructions without further dely. Once he had set off, she lingered in the doorway, enjoying the cool, morning air. As the dawn passed, the town came to life. A small smile lingered on her face as she watched the normal lives of her neighbors unfold before her.

 _If only I could have such a simple life, to live in a small house far away from the Game and lies,_ she thought, forcing herself to pull away from her daydream and return to her duties inside.

Her eyes found Petyr as he continued to work and she couldn't help but smile as another change of heart took hold, _I wouldn't trade our life for anything._

As if he had heard her thoughts, he looked up, giving her a real smile, "Would you care for some breakfast, Lady Baelish?" He inquired, finishing the last seal on his letters.

"In a bit." She answered, picking up her sowing and reaching for a small stool, which she dragged to its rightful place beside Petyr's desk. She took up her residence and quietly set to work, not bothering to look up. He watched her with curious eyes, an amused touch to his lips as she worked. Sansa could feel the attention he gave her and basked in it; there was nothing quite like being in the presence of the one you loved and being comfortable doing nothing more than _being_ together.

XxX

The pair enjoyed their quiet morning, side by side, and went their separate ways that afternoon to finalize plans as discretely as possible; Petyr to set up his affairs and Sansa to keep up her normal routine with the Tyrells.

Upon her return, everything would be ready for their departure and Sansa could barely contain herself as she took the path which led home. Unlike her feet, which she just barley kept from hurrying, she couldn't help the smugness that tugged at her lips as she thought about how well she had pulled off her part at lunch; no one suspected anything, not even Lady Olenna, who had a keen eye for plots that might be afoot.

 _Petyr will be proud_ , she thought giddily, like a girl in love, as her steps began to quicken once more. The pending adventure surged her veins with adrenaline and she couldn't help but smile; she felt untouchable in that moment.

The feeling was short lived, however, as she took the corner. Her footsteps instantly came to a stop when she saw what awaited her.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Searlas asked, coming to her side.

Sansa stared off to the distance, the last rays of the day catching the golden armor of the King's Guard standing at attention outside her house. Her attendant followed her line of sight and stood taller, his hand ready on his sword.

 _Please, oh if any of the gods are listening, please let Petyr be alright_ , she prayed, finding her mask and putting it in place as she started forward, her head high to conceal her worry. Anyone who laid eyes on the auburn-haired beauty would know who she was and the blood that flowed through her veins; Sansa was a direwolf preparing for war and she would cut down anyone who dared to stand between her and the rest of her pack.

The King's Guard bowed dutifully, no hint of respect to their movement, and Sansa excused them with a wave of her hand. They reluctantly deferred to the lady of the house as she brushed passed them, reminding them that she would always be above them for the names she carried.

With a nervous hand she opened the door, not sure what fate awaited her within.

"You would do good to fly back to the Vale while you still have most of your dignity left. Someone of your age has no reason to remain in King's Landing; you have used up what little use you had to begin with." The comment met her ears as she pushed open the smooth wood, carefully peering around the corner.

Petyr stood before Jaime Lannister, who easily towered a head above her husband and was smugly using the higher ground to his advantage. Neither noticed her presence.

"Rumor has it that she has already made her feelings concerning you quite clear, don't you think it would be best to annul your sham of a marriage and allow her a chance at restoring her House? Let her be with someone of equal standing, do the girl this small mercy." Jaime taunted, looming above Petyr, who kept his face an expressionless mask. The King Slayer turned his back on the mockingbird, running his finger along the length of the table.

Sansa watched with studious eyes, waiting for the right time to reveal herself.

Petyr smirked, watching the back of Jaime's head, "Do tell, Ser Jaime, what you plan on doing to restore your House name? Or do you just plan to keep desecrating the lineages of other great Houses?"

For one second the scene before her froze in time and, in the next, Petyr was bent over, cupping his bleeding nose as Jaime whipped the blood from his armor's elbow.

"I do apologize, my arm sometimes moves involuntarily." He said, holding up his golden hand.

Sansa narrowed her eyes and threw open the door, making sure it hit the wall to catch the men's attention.

"Lady Sansa." Jaime bowed, turning his charm on instantly. Petyr inclined his head as he moved to sit at the table, his pride bruised.

She bit her tongue before she could correct Jaime, knowing what she had to do. Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to play the Game. It was her plan and she would see it through till the end.

With an exasperated sighed, she turned to Jaime, "I really hate coming home to a bleeding husband. Blood is one of the hardest of stains to get out." She tsked, removing her cloak and setting it aside before getting a wet cloth, "What gives us the pleasure of your visit this evening, Ser Jaime?" She asked as she dutifully tended to Petyr, trying her hardest not to give into her want to dote as he moved to sit at the table. He caught her eye, the grey depths encouraging her to keep the façade up.

 _I'm sorry_ , she allowed the emotion to flit across her face while her back was turned to the lion. He nodded, receiving the message.

"I only wanted to thank you for the cloak and give you what remains of your payment. I didn't trust Littlefinger's guard to make sure you received what is rightfully yours." Jaime explained, gesturing to the small bag of gold on the table.

Sansa nodded, remembering the report Searlas had given her upon his return, and knowing the Lannister had purposefully chosen to visit her home while she was away to cause the most damage. It took everything within her not to let the hate color her face.

"I appreciate your concern, Ser Jaime." Sansa turned around with a coy smile, looking up to him through her long lashes. Petyr didn't have to feign jealousy in that moment and the knight seem quite taken by the show.

"Of course." He bowed his head in turn, unable to conceal his arrogance as he saw the battered mockingbird, "Well, I will take my leave. Enjoy your evening, Lady Sansa."

"Good eve, Ser Jaime." She curtsied, making sure he caught her gazing wistfully after him as he left.

Her smile fell the instant the door was closed and she was careful not to let the exasperated huff escape her lips until the horses were a distance off.

"That man is a prick." She snapped, thinking of all the ways she would like to bloody his pretty face as she hurried to pour a small bowl of water and gather fresh cloth. Tenderly, she pulled Petyr's hand away from his bleeding nose, her face saddened as she set to fixing it. Sansa leaned back on her heels, reaching up to brush aside his tousled bangs, "Are you alright?" She rested her hand against his jaw, wishing there was something more she could do.

Petyr brought his hand up to cover hers and leaned into it, "I am now." He closed his eyes and turned to bestow a kiss on her small palm.

She brightened at his openness, knowing what a treasure it was for him to let her into his inner most thoughts like this. The door opened and they both turned to the newcomer, on guard.

"My lord?" Philip called tentatively from the door, his cap in hand, "The horses are ready. I made sure to keep them out of sight from the King's Guard."

Petyr nodded, dismissing the lad, and turned to Sansa, "Why don't you go change? I can finish up here." He gestured to the now red water and forced a smile, trying to let her know he was truly alright.

Reluctantly, Sansa stood and moved to the bedroom. Her eyes were hesitant and couldn't help checking in on her husband as she readied for the journey; Jaime had hit him hard with his armored elbow and she wasn't sure Petyr would be able to ride with a clear head.

 _Focus, Sansa_ , she told herself, _Petyr would tell you if he wasn't alright – you need to trust him._

The thought eased her and she set to changing into the simple riding cloths. Concealing the dagger within her sleeve, which she had sown straps into, she made the impulsive decision to don her cuff.

"You shouldn't wear that, my lady." Maree advised, startlingly her mistress as she placed fresh linens on the bed, "You don't know who will be on the road; not just thieves, but those who might want to take you captive. You are the eldest Stark, your name holds weight in the North. Just think about if the Boltons found you…"

Sansa rolled her eyes, tired of the lists people kept reading off to her concerning her name, "They won't touch me with my husband accompanying me." Sansa defended, knowing the entire time that Maree was right.

"My lord is not a fighter but he would do everything in his power to keep you safe from those that wish to do you harm and use you for their own agenda. You yourself have seen how his wit weakness when your safety is in questioned. It might be best to not journey as husband and wife; if the Boltons discover who you really are, you know they will cut him down in an instant and marry you to their eldest son. Keep your head about you, my lady, and think a couple steps ahead." She gave a soft smile and pulled a letter from her sleeve, "This is the note for my brother."

Sansa quickly took it and tucked it into the breast of her coat, "I promise to bring you whatever news of him I can."

"Many thanks, my lady." Maree bowed her head in respect, her eyes lingering on the cuff, "I packed some dye in your bag to use once you are out of the city."

Looking to her wrist, Sansa sighed. Though not in favor of it, she pulled the cuff off and placed it back in the box, closing the lid with a resounding thud, "I have already asked so much, may I ask one more thing of you, Maree?"

The lithely girl nodded and stepped forward, "I will guard this, and your cloak, with my life. I swear this on the old gods and the new, and my honor as a Northerner."

"It is not that important." Sansa smiled, appreciating her loyalty, "But do keep it safe."

Maree nodded and took the small box as Sansa moved to bid goodbye to her beloved pet, "Don't grow too much more while I am gone, Rook." With a sigh, she rested her head against the cage, "I hope to see you again, my little friend." The growing kit hopped up to the door and lovingly sniffed her hand.

Sansa sighed, finally questioning what it was she hoped to accomplish by this journey.

Petyr was right; they weren't going on a holiday, they were going into a battlefield. Something she had never prepared for as a lady. She could sew and read, curtsy and sing, but she knew nothing about wielding a sword or battle strategy. What was she thinking rushing into this? What did she have to offer Jon?

"Sansa?"

Maree gave her best attempt at a curtsy as Petyr entered, tugging on his ridding gloves. He smiled, his face showing no sign of the earlier encounter, "What do you think?" He held out his arms, letting her admire the work she had done on his new cloak.

"Very handsome." Sansa answered, her eyes beaming with pride.

"Are you ready?" He asked, a knowing touch to his lips as he looked between the kit and his lady wife.

Sansa took an easy breath, sorting her thoughts. She wasn't prepared for war, but she never would be.

 _Winter is coming_ , she thought, _winter is coming for all of us, and Jon is a Stark, no one can tell me otherwise. He needs to know that and that is all I can do for him now; I won't let him down again._

Finding strength she didn't know she had left, Sansa stood up and nodded, "Yes." Without another look back, she left Maree to gather the thing she had entrusted to her and walked through the house without another moment of doubt.

Petyr helped her into her saddle before taking up his own. He gave her one last look, letting her know that this was the last chance to turn back.

In response, Sansa tapped her heel against her mare's side and trotted down the path. She looked back as she pulled her hood up, seeing how far back Petyr was, as they approached the quiet gate.

As the castle diminished behind them, she slowed her mare to keep pace with Petyr's, "I am going to dye my hair once we are far enough away and go by Alayne. It will be safer that way." She stated, her heart pounding as she thought about Maree's warning.

"Will you go as my lady wife or my charge?" Petyr asked, keeping his voice steady when it threatened to waver. Logically, he knew that her plan was the safest, especially since they would be forced to travel through the Bolton's territory before they reached the Wall, but he couldn't help the part of him that wanted to make sure anyone they came across knew she was his and he was hers.

Sansa looked to him, letting him see how torn she was, "It might be best if I journey as Alayne Stone."

"Very well." He inclined his head and they continued to ride on. Sansa stole a glance every few minutes, her eyes flitting between the brooch he wore, which was of the mockingbird and direwolf, and his nose.

"Are you alright, Petyr?" She finally asked, wincing as she counted how many times she had asked that same question.

Always composed, he nodded, "Yes."

Sansa lazily rode beside him and looked out to the stars. Sighing, she looked back to him, "Maree said it might be best to go in disguise, I gave her my cloak and jewelry to keep safe upon my return."

"And what would a servant know about travel?" Petyr asked, his voice not as harsh as his question hinted it should be.

She colored and turned away, "She made a good point is all." Nervously, she looked to him, "I'm the only thing that has ever made you hesitate, you yourself have admitted that I am the only thing that matters to you. Someone might recognize me in the North and if they know that you're my…Petyr, I—" Her voice broke and she turned away, unable to face him, "I can't lose you."

Petyr turned to her as she spoke, nodding once she had finished, "Did you bring dye with you?"

"Maree packed some, yes." She replied, visibly relaxed by his acceptance. Sansa allowed herself to smile, her eyes moving to meet his, "Would you care to use some, Lord Baelish?" She replied playfully, her eyes bright as she admired his snowy temples.

He chuckled, his sly grin pulling at his lips, "Such a respectful young lady you have become, Lady Baelish."

"I learned from the best." She replied cheekily, lightened by their banter.

They continued riding on through the night and found a small, hidden alcove to rest in as dawn broke. Sansa groaned as she fell against one of the trees; every part of her ached and she could barely keep her eyes open.

"You rest; I will take the first watch." Petyr said, tying off the horses and removing their saddles.

Sansa tried to fight it as she turned over, the grass a welcomed mattress, "You need to sleep too."

"We are still too close to King's Landing." He replied, pulling off his gloves and retrieving the water skin, "I sent a letter to the Hand of the King stating that we had to leave immediate for the Vale to tend to a sick Robin. It should be easily believed, the boy is always sick, but they might send an escort to check on us and, seeing as we are on the wrong road for the Vale, I need to make sure we can't be seen from the road."

"I can't sleep without you beside me." She tried, fighting to keep the slumber from her eyes as she stiffened a yawn.

Petyr smirked, "You will sleep just fine. It won't take long—"

"Petyr." She looked up to him, holding her hand out, "Please, just this once?"

He sighed and started towards her, knowing he couldn't say no to her simple request. Sansa smiled at her easy win and moved over, making room for him. Once he had settled, she curled to his side, sharing her warmth.

"You enjoy having this power over me, don't you?" He whispered the rhetorical question, resting his head against hers and taking in her sweet scent.

She snuggled against his chest, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, "Immensely."

"You know this doesn't help keep up the guise that you are my charge."

"Shhh…" She cooed, nosing into the crook of his arm and listening to his steady heartbeat, "I'm trying to sleep."

He just chuckled and brushed her hair smooth with his hand, "Sleep well, little pawn." He kissed her head and leaned back, keeping guard as she slept.

A couple hours later she stirred on her own, more rested. Petyr sat up, stretching his stiff muscles.

"I should dye my hair." She sighed, her voice groggy as she sat up and reached for her saddle bag.

"Would you like help?" He offered. Sansa handing it to her husband without a second thought, knowing she didn't want to do this on her own. The two set to work, changing her beautiful auburn tresses to the raven black of Alayne's.

Petyr grew downcast as he saw the change take place. He leaned into her locks once they had dried, "I will always prefer your natural color to this."

"I will too." She inclined back, leaning her head against his shoulder, "I don't feel like I look like myself, though I guess that is the point." Chastely, she kissed his cheek, "But, I would rather do this to keep you safe than risk losing you."

Petyr sighed and wrapped his arms around her, "I love you, Sansa."

"I love you too, Petyr." She curled into his secure arms, relishing their restored bond.

They spent the rest of the day pouring over maps and picking the best route. As night fell, they readied their horses and began their second night of riding. The routine continued for the next two weeks; Sansa's inner light grew brighter each day as more distance was put between them and King's Landing and their bond strengthened, like a sword re-forged in the flames, as they kept the other's confidence. Truly, nothing could break them now.

"We might be able to start traveling by day." Petyr replied as they readied their horses, "The Wall is another four days ride and we are entering the territory of the Boltons. They are sure to have watches running the perimeter at all hours of the day and night. If we stumble across them, it would be easier to pull our ruse if we are traveling by day instead of by night, when criminals abound." Sansa nodded, trusting his judgement.

They rode on for a while, letting the silence of the eve settle around them. The trees' shadows grew ominous and the full moon cast a spell upon the forest, setting them on their guard. Petyr's horse spoked and they both tensed as they caught sight of the approaching lights.

Petyr turned sharply towards his wife, "Keep your hood pulled over your face, but let your black hair show. Say as little as possible."

Sansa nodded and hurried to do as she was told. The firelight drew closer and they could make out the silhouettes of a small company.

"The flayed man." Petyr whispered, squinting to make out the flags.

Sansa inhaled sharply, turning to her husband with wide eyes, "The Boltons." He nodded in confirmation.

The leader of the company drew his men to a stop when he caught sight of the travelers, "Good eve, sir. What brings you out at such an hour?" His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing their appearance and readying to test whatever they had to say.

"I am Lord Petyr Baelish and we, my charge and I, are heading to Deepwood Mottee to meet her mother." Petyr lied with ease, his years of practice on point. He nodded towards Sansa, "Please pardon her coldness, Alayne has been away from home for far too long and her melancholy has taken hold. She was weary of strangers beforehand and it has only worsened since."

"Why ride at such a late hour, my lord?" The lead pressed, skeptic of their story.

"We ride only now because we are in search of a place to rest for the night." Petyr answered, his eyes taking stock of the soldiers as they looked to the hidden beauty with eager eyes.

"You may return with us to our encampment, share our fire and meal." The captain offered, looking to his men, "I promise no harm will come to you or your…charge."

"Oh, that is not necessary—"

"I insist, my lord." The man cut him off, his hand lingering on his sword hilt, "Lord Bolton is always interest in meeting travelers. They always bring the best stories from the South."

Petyr inclined his head, knowing they had been caught and trying to reform a plan, "Very well, my kind sir, lead on."

The soldiers circled the pair, leaving them no escape as they started down the road. An hour later, when night had fully taken hold, they arrived at their destination.

Winterfell grew before them. The once proud towers, which used to signify home and safety, were now dark and menacing; warning them of the dangers to be found within.

Petyr looked to Sansa, wanting to shield her against whatever was to come, "How do you fair, Alayne?" He asked, unable to contain the concern he felt for her.

"We're back." Was all she breathed, unable to believe what was before her as her eyes grew, "Home."

XxX


End file.
